Until it hurts
by ShadowsOnTheMoon
Summary: 'A' crosses a line, sending Spencer into a tailspin. Despite the love and support from her friends and boyfriend, she struggles to deal with the aftermath. Has A finally won?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey there, readers (and reviewers, hint hint). Here is a special November-only ShadowsOnTheMoon story. Since I'll be off writing a novel this November I won't be able to keep up with most of my regular stories (****_Iridescence_**** excluded), but a couple of weeks ago I had a dream and ended up with a voracious plot bunny and wrote 25000 words in a week and exhausted myself and this is the result. So this story will be updated frequently throughout November (every time I write 5000 words of my novel, essentially), and I hope you guys like it. I'm giving you this little taste now, and proper updates will begin next month.**

**Some background: it's set after season three. It will be mostly about Spencer, and of course there will be some Sparia (duh), Spoby, and a bit of Wrencer. It's dark and angsty of course, so consider yourselves warned. I don't think there's anything else that needs to be mentioned here, other than: enjoy, and please review! It honestly makes my day to see people liking my work and taking the time to let me know.**

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As she took her first tentative step into the dark woods, the half-full moon dim above her head, Spencer wasn't sure what she was more scared of: finding something, or not finding anything. She glanced down at her phone, reading the message she now knew off by heart. As far as 'A' clues went, it was suspiciously specific. No wordplay, no vague hints. It told her exactly where to go, and why. Normally she'd hesitate, overthink it, try to outsmart A – but there was no time. Aria was in danger, and A had picked her to save her. It was almost certainly a trap, but that didn't matter.

Branches snapped against her face as she sped up, stumbling over a rock and scraping her hand on a tree trunk. A couple of drops of blood dripped to the ground, but she kept going, her breathing becoming shallower with fear and anticipation. Aria was out here somewhere. That's what A said. But what did that mean? Was she going to find Aria's _body_? The thought was too horrible to linger on.

Each step seemed harder, somehow taking her further away from her goal. At one point she reached a clearing and felt her heart leap, but the moment of distraction caused her to stumble and she went sprawling, landing on one arm. A jolt of pain shot through her, and as she scrambled to her feet she realized the clearing was empty anyway.

She kept going, wondering where her friends were. She'd tried calling Hanna and Emily, but they hadn't answered. Unable to wait, she'd rushed off by herself. She knew it was a bad idea, after everything they'd been through, with everything she knew about A, but there was nothing else to do.

Finally, after an hour that felt like a lifetime, she reached the edge of the trees. And there, lying in the middle of the clearing, was something that made her heart and feet skid to a stop. Aria wasn't moving, wasn't breathing, and there was something that looked like blood smeared across her face.

"Aria!" Spencer shouted, her voice hoarse with fear. "Aria!"

Her legs only had to hold her up for a couple of yards, and then she collapsed onto the ground beside the limp body of her friend. From this close she could see plainly that it was blood on Aria's face, stemming from a gash above her left eye.

"Oh god," Spencer moaned, hesitantly reaching out to touch Aria's shoulder. The other girl felt cold, but not _deathly_ cold. She could feel the faint rise and fall of the other girl's chest; she was breathing. Spencer let out a sigh of relief, which was quickly followed by a wave of suspicion. A had lured her out here, but why?

Keeping one hand protectively on Aria, she looked around the clearing. It seemed deserted, but she knew all too well that A was more than able to watch from the shadows without being noticed. She knew that better than anyone; she'd only been on the team for a couple of weeks, but it was long enough to convince her of just how deadly they were.

"Aria," she said softly, turning back to her and gently shaking her shoulder. "Come on, wake up."

There was no response, but she hadn't expected one. This was more serious than the time Aria had been locked in the box on the Halloween train; this was more dangerous than anything A had ever done. Aria could _die_.

A rustle off in the woods made her jerk upright, her eyes once again scanning the gloom. She couldn't see anything, but that didn't make the anxiety stop bubbling up in her stomach. There was one thing she knew; she needed to get out of here.

Taking a deep breath, she scooped Aria up in her arms and got to her feet. The other girl was lighter than she'd anticipated, and she staggered backwards under the lack of the expected weight. Once she gained her balance she turned around and started heading back into the trees, needing so desperately to get out of here. To get Aria to safety.

She'd just about reached the relative shelter of the trees when she felt something slam into her shoulder. She blinked in surprise, pain not registering yet, and peered around Aria's head so she could see what had hit her. Before she could make sense of it, her shoulder exploded in agony and she let out a cry, stumbling forward. It felt like she had been stabbed, and for a wild moment she thought she had. Without thinking she set Aria down on the ground and then reached around, yanking the thing out of her arm.

It was a dart. A bright red dart, signed with the letter A. It fell from her trembling hand and tumbled to the ground, and then she couldn't make it out among the foliage. Her arm was throbbing, and when she looked she saw a welt forming, with some blood trickling down. A had actually shot her. With a dart gun.

The shock from the pain was enough to temporarily distract her from the truth: if A had shot her, it mean that A was here. Watching her. _Hunting_ her. She picked Aria up again and hurried through the trees, her movements hindered by the pain and by the weight of her friend. By the time she made it clear of the woods, she could hardly see straight. Her fingers shook so much that she could barely open the door to her car, and as she carefully put Aria into the back seat she couldn't stop a low groan of pain from escaping her own lips.

The pain only intensified on the drive home. She tried calling Emily and Hanna, but they didn't answer. As she hit the outskirts of Rosewood she realized she needed to come up with a plan. Aria probably needed medical attention, but there would be a lot of uncomfortable questions if she dropped her off at the hospital. But she couldn't leave her alone. She settled for taking her to the Hastings house; her parents were out of town, as usual, and she could do her best to patch Aria up. If that didn't work, she could take her to the hospital.

She reached her house in just under ten minutes, and soon was staggering through the door. Leaving it open, she went back to get Aria, and carried her inside. She wasn't sure if it was the weight or the effects of the dart – was it just a dart, or had it been something more? – but the trip seemed unending. She was exhausted by the time she got to the living room, and could only just muster up the energy to lay Aria down on the couch.

The other girl still hadn't moved or even opened her eyes, so Spencer set about doing as much first aid as she could. First she pulled off Aria's jacket, which was wet with blood, and she tossed that into the laundry room. Then she got a bowl of water and a cloth from the kitchen and, sitting down on the sofa, started gently dabbing at the wound on Aria's head. It had stopped bleeding, which was a good sign, and on closer inspection it was nowhere near as bad as she'd thought it would be.

The sight of blood was making her feel woozy – or maybe it was something more – and she ran the back of her hand across her sweat-stained forehead, trying to focus on her breathing. Aria's sounded deep and almost peaceful, whereas her own was labored, every intake of breath an effort she was beginning to lose the energy for. She finished cleaning the wound and then moved on to some of the smaller cuts and scrapes, none of which needed more than a quick clean and a bandaid.

It was probably the shock, she decided. The shock of seeing Aria lying like that, not knowing whether she was alive, had caused her to jump to conclusions. As long as she took care of her, she could make sure Aria was okay. And she would be okay – if she woke up.

Spencer took the dirty cloth and the bowl of water into the kitchen, but as she reached the middle of the room she stopped, her mind blanking entirely. What was she doing here? She glanced down at the items in her hand and her heart jolted. Then the pieces slithered back into her mind; Aria was injured. She needed her. Now was no time to draw a blank.

She tipped the water down the sink and rinsed the bowl out, then cleaned the towels, listening in case Aria woke up. There was no sound from the other room, so she went about making some coffee; god, she needed it. Once she'd had a few sips of the reassuring liquid, she made her way back into the living room. Aria looked so calm she could almost just be sleeping.

Spencer sat down beside her again, propping her friend's head up on a cushion. Then she quickly checked her for signs of other injuries; there was no indication of any broken bones, any dislocations, or any major injuries of any sort. The coffee helped soothe her jangled nerves, but it didn't quite stop the tremors in her hands.

After she'd been sitting there for a while, she became aware again of the stabbing pain in her shoulder. The adrenaline had blocked it out for a few minutes, but now it was doing its best to make its presence known. She put her coffee cup down on the table and looked at her arm, scared to see the damage. It wasn't as bad as she'd thought, except there was a spider crawling up her arm.

She could feel its hairy legs creeping up her arm, each one sending tingles through her body, as it made its way up to the cut. With a muffled shriek she flicked it off, but almost as soon as it was gone another took its place, and then another, until her arm seemed to be no more than a mass of spiders.

She shook her arm and they fell off, but as soon as they hit the ground they vanished, like steam curling off water. Heart racing, she stared at the place where they were, unable to understand what had just happened. They should have run off, not just _disappeared_. She kept staring, but they didn't come back. Her heartbeat slowly returned to normal – or as normal as it had been all night, given the circumstances – and she chided herself for letting her guard down. Now was no time to be having hallucinations.

She turned her attention once more to Aria, who was still passed out. Leaning back, Spencer gently ran her hands through the other girl's hair, needing to physically touch her in order to remind herself that this was real, that she'd saved Aria. As long as she woke up, things would be fine.

As Spencer was getting her third cup of coffee, she heard a noise. Abandoning the cup, she rushed into the living room, almost tripping over her own feet in her haste – or was it something else? – until she was by Aria's side.

The smaller girl let out a weak whimper, and then slowly opened her eyes. For a moment they were unfocused, and then they locked onto Spencer's. At the sight of it Spencer felt weak; if she'd been standing she would have collapsed. Instead she sank down further on her knees, thanking all the gods she could think of that Aria had come back. But her thoughts were all jumbled, and now _she_ was the one having trouble focusing.

She tried to rein her thoughts in, tried to focus on those bright eyes before her, but her vision was going black. She blinked, hard, and shook her head to dislodge the troublesome thoughts. Now was no time to black out.

"You're… awake," Spencer mumbled, feeling herself slipping sideways.

Those were her last words before she slumped over, her eyes closing as she fell into oblivion.

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**Uh oh. Where do you think this is heading?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey all. After my first 5000 words in NaNo I'm coming up for air, and what better way to do that than to update one of my stories? This scene is pretty depressing, but (I hope) not too graphic. It's actually the inspiration for the story - this part came to me in a dream. (Cue derisive laughter.) Thank you all for your favorites, follows, and ****reviews****. And SpobyTreegan, I promise, if I ever become a successful and famous author, I'm going to send a free copy of my book to all my reviewers. ;) That's all I had to say (and all the time I have before I need to dive back into my novel), other than: REVIEW. I love love love getting reviews, it honestly makes my day, so if you read this chapter and like it, take a couple of seconds just to let me know. Thanks in advance, and see you next time.**

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Bright lights. Blinding pain. Music playing in the background.

Spencer's thoughts were confused, and as she drifted back into consciousness she struggled to collect them. She sat up slowly, her head throbbing, and looked around. She was in the living room, lying on the sofa, in the same clothes she'd worn yesterday – or was it the day before? It felt like she'd been out for a while. She took a deep, gasping breath as she hauled herself upright. What had _happened_ last night?

It came to her in muddled pieces: the woods, the dart, pain, darkness. Putting them together, like a jigsaw puzzle, she managed to remember most of it. She'd gone to rescue Aria. A had been there; had shot her with a dart (had it been _drugged_?). She'd managed to get Aria home, and then – what? Hadn't she left Aria on this very couch? Where was she now?

Getting slowly to her feet, her limbs feeling like lead and her heart even heavier, she made her way to the kitchen. There was coffee left on the bench – she remembered making that – and an empty bowl by the sink. The clock on the counter told her that it was almost half past ten. She was late, then, but somehow that didn't seem to matter. Her cell was nowhere around, so she picked up the landline and dialled her friends' numbers, one at a time. None of them answered, but that made sense. They were in school, after all.

Sinking into the nearest chair, she rested her head in her hands and tried to remember. It proved to be a fruitless exercise, and did nothing but give her a pounding headache. She'd brought Aria back here, taken care of her, and then – it was a total blank. Everything from midnight until this moment was just… _missing_. There were a few dirt stains on her shorts that she didn't remember getting, and a smear of blood down one leg. Had she fallen down somewhere?

Then her eyes fell onto her right arm and she felt faint. There was a mess of blood, about three inches wide, evidently fresh but still congealed. She knew she should wash it and start to clean it up, but she couldn't bring herself to; not yet. Instead she shuddered, stood up, and went back into the living room.

Nothing seemed out of place. All the electronic equipment, besides her phone, was still there. Not even a cushion on the sofa was in the wrong position. The only signs that something had happened were a few blood stains and some dirt; they were from Aria. She felt her stomach lurch at the thought of her friend. She had to find out if she was okay, but she knew she couldn't face her friends like this. Not when she was so… broken.

Moving on from the kitchen, she searched every room on this floor, looking for signs of forced entry, of A's presence, of _anything_. Thinking back, she realized she hadn't locked the door when she came in last night. So A – or whoever it was – hadn't needed to break in (if whatever had happened had even taken place inside; she couldn't tell, couldn't remember, couldn't stand it). They could have just waltzed in and done whatever they needed to. She looked down at her feet and saw they were muddy; she definitely hadn't gone barefoot to find Aria, so how did that happen?

Adding that to a long list of unanswered questions, she started up the stairs. She searched each room carefully, but, as with downstairs, everything seemed normal. Nothing missing, nothing in the wrong spot. There was no sign that any violence whatsoever had taken place in this house, but if it hadn't, why was she so bloody and covered in dirt?

Her energy lasted until she finished searching her room, and then she sank down onto the floor, trying to keep herself from crying. It was useless, of course, and the tears soon threatened to overwhelm her. She lost track of how long she lay sobbing on the floor, but by the time she finished she was even more exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and she didn't feel the slightest bit better. She still didn't know if Aria was okay, she couldn't contact her friends, and she was alone in a house which, by all accounts, A had been in less than twelve hours previously.

The thought made her terrified. If she wasn't safe here, she wasn't safe anywhere. Scrambling to her feet, tears still slipping down her cheeks, she went through the house, checking and double-checking that all doors and windows were locked, before allowing herself to lean against the door, breathing heavily, and contemplate what to do now.

The tears finally stopped, but her breathing was still shallow. Each frantic beat of her heart made her feel more trapped, more scared, until she was sure she would just drop dead from the fear. She made a conscious effort to slow her breathing, but it was almost impossible given the circumstances. She needed something to do, something to keep her hands busy.

Although she'd been avoiding it, she knew she'd have to face it sooner or later. She trudged up to the upstairs bathroom, locked the door – you could never be too careful – and pulled out some first aid supplies from the cupboard. She didn't know the extent of the damage, but putting it off any longer wasn't going to help.

While she ran some cold water over a cloth, she traced her steps back as far as she could remember. Aria. Darkness. Pain. A long, long time. More darkness. And then, today. The cool water ran over her hands, making her feel cold to the core – or maybe it was more than that. She didn't know what had happened, or where her friends were, or what the hell A wanted, and she couldn't remember ever feeling more helpless.

_Keep it together_, she told herself sternly. _You're a Hastings. You're stronger than this_.

She looked up at her reflection in the mirror, but couldn't even meet her own eyes. She was too distracted by the tangled hair, the streaks of dirt across her face, a slight cut at the edge of her lip. She turned her attention back to the cloth, leaving the water running while she used the cloth to wipe the blood off. The sting made her wince, but she forced herself to keep going until the cloth was red with blood and her arm was relatively clean.

Only then could she see the damage, and she dropped the cloth in surprise, clapping a hand to her mouth to stop herself from crying out. It was worse than she'd imagined, and she wanted to stop looking, needed to stop staring, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. She couldn't breathe – she needed to get out of here –

Before she knew it she was fleeing downstairs, as if she could outrun her thoughts. She could stop looking at her arm now, but she couldn't erase the image from her mind. Her hands felt clammy and her head was spinning. She wrapped her arms around herself, but it only made her feel more trapped. Then she flung them out, but the action sent jolts of pain through her limbs.

She needed to get away, but there was nowhere to run. Her own house wasn't safe, and with what A had done now, she had a feeling things were only going to escalate. She wasn't strong enough for this, she couldn't handle it. She just wanted it all to be over. She was collapsing in on herself, and soon there'd be nothing left.

She felt around in her pockets again, checking for her phone or her wallet, but all she heard was a faint crinkling. Curious, she reached in and pulled out a piece of paper. One side was blank, but the other side had a single line of chilling words.

_This is what happens when you cross me. –A_

So this was a punishment; A's way of paying her back for playing double agent, for going against the team in order to save her friends. The rush of fear was soon replaced by certainty; if this was the price of her friends' freedom, she would pay it. The certainty was only slightly dulled by the panicky beating of her heart as she looked down at her arm again. This was her mark of loyalty, her brand of allegiance, and she'd just have to live with it. But could she really do that?

She scrunched up the note and tossed it on the bench, then made her way upstairs. A nice long shower was what she needed; it wouldn't fix her problems, but it could cheer her up just a little, and that little bit could mean a lot. But no matter how long she stayed in the shower, scrubbing the dirt and blood away, so fiercely that she almost rubbed her skin raw, she couldn't manage to feel clean. She felt used, broken, even though – or perhaps because of the fact that - she didn't know what had happened. A could have done _anything_ to her. A could have… she couldn't even finish the sentence. She couldn't contemplate what A had done while she'd been out. It didn't feel like A had done _that_, but she couldn't be sure.

If she were a normal girl, not one haunted by ghosts and her own indiscretions, she would take herself off to the hospital. Get that cut on her arm treated. Let them clean her up. Get a rape test done. She'd be able to allow herself to be small, brittle, like a child, and let the nurses and doctors help her heal.

But she wasn't, and she couldn't. If she told anyone about A, the retaliation would be swift and brutal. She and her friends had learned that the hard way. And after this new level of savagery, she wasn't about to try A's patience. She'd just have to lay low and hope that it settled down, back to normal – or as normal as anything in her life ever was.

Her new resolve lasted as long as it took for her arm to start bleeding again. Apparently she'd scrubbed it too hard in the shower, because now it had opened again. The blood seeped through the three jagged lines on her arm, drawing attention to their distinctive shape. She wiped it off with a tissue, but it kept on bleeding, and soon it was mixed with her tears as she realized the implications. The cut was deep, and it wouldn't fade easily. She would be stuck with it for years, if not forever.

The shape of an A, carved into her arm.

She wiped it off again, and again, getting more irritated each time. Finally she stumbled to the kitchen, picked up the phone, and hesitated just slightly before dialling an all-too-familiar number. When the person on the other end picked up, she bit her lip, trying to control her sobbing. Eventually she managed to utter the three words she had told herself she never would, three simple words that made her feel weak and vulnerable and petrified all at once.

"I need help."

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**Hm, who do you think she's calling?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well hey guys. Here I am again. I have a bit of time now so I'll reply to all your reviews.**

**RinShade: good guess, and thanks for the review!  
eveningshades1107: your reviews never fail to amuse me. Thank you so much for brightening my days. (Damn that got cheesy quickly.) As for your theory, yes, the Scarlet Letter thing does come into play later. How are you always so on top of things? I swear you pay more attention to my stories than I do. As for who is or is not A... I'm not at liberty to say. (For all you know it could be me... or you.)  
Forever Courage: great to see you again! The confusion is definitely deliberate, but you'll find out more about (well, pretty much everything about) what happened in time.  
tobyequalshottness: Toby does make an appearance in this chapter. Read on to find out how...  
CMR: of course it's suspicious, it's A we're talking about. Thanks for the review, and I hope you like the chapter.  
Guest: thank you so much, that was such a lovely comment.  
Runawaybaby55: thought I'd lost you already! Good to know you're still here. NaNo is actually going pretty well; I'm past the worst of it I think, so I should be back to fanfic-writing, PM-replying soon-ish. Also, warning you now: some later chapters? Sparia overload. Prepare yourself.**

**On that note, enjoy, and please do let me know what you think!**

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When the car rolled up to the Hastings' driveway, Spencer was sitting at the counter, her hands clasped around her second cup of coffee. There was a tentative knock at the door, but she couldn't bring herself to answer. It was only when the knocking intensified, accompanied by someone calling her name, that she remembered she'd locked all the doors. With reluctant effort, she got to her feet and made her way over to the door and carefully unlocked it, opening it slowly to make sure it was who she was expecting. Then she stepped back, gesturing for him to come inside.

"I came as soon as I could," Wren said, shutting the door cautiously behind him and following Spencer into the kitchen.

She nodded, non-committal, unable to explain that she had no concept of time at the moment. She could have been staring at that cup of coffee for minutes, or hours, or forever. She wasn't sure anymore, and she didn't think it mattered anyway. Silently she sat down at the counter, and Wren sat down opposite her, and for a long moment neither of them spoke.

"Are you okay?" he asked after a while, with the kind of tenderness that made her want to throw herself into his arms.

Spencer bit back a sob and didn't answer. She knew she needed him, and he'd been quick to come to her rescue, but now the time came to open up she didn't think she could do it. There was no way to do this without telling him everything, but she couldn't do that. Why had she called him?

"Spencer," he said, more firmly, and she looked up at him. "Is something wrong?"

"N-no," she said automatically, but she knew he wouldn't buy it. Nobody would, given the way her bottom lip was trembling and her hands were gripping the edge of the counter so tightly the knuckles were turning white.

Wren's face softened and he came around to her side, going to hug her. The action made her flinch, and Wren came to a stop at once, his eyes widening. He backed off, sat down again, and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

She almost laughed out loud at the fact that _he_ was apologizing to _her_. She was the one who was a mess, and he was just trying to comfort her. "It's okay," she mumbled, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm just…"

He reached a hand across the counter, bridging the gap between them; an offering. Slowly, she uncurled one of her hands and placed it in his, feeling his reassuring warmth as his hand gently closed around hers.

"I know we're not… _involved_ anymore," he began, "but I still care about you, Spencer. I always will. And I don't like seeing you so distressed. So if there's anything I can do for you, even if it's just to be here -"

"It's more than that," she said in a burst of courage, and then shrank back in on herself as he glanced at her. "I need your… medical opinion."

Wren leaned back, surprised, but not unwelcoming. "Regarding what?"

Spencer looked at him, reminded of the time he'd stitched up her hand, of the times he'd comforted her after Toby's 'death', of the times they'd kissed and how alive he'd made her feel. Then, without another word, she rolled back her sleeve. The bright red _A_ stood out on her skin, somehow looking worse than it had only an hour before.

If Wren had been confused before, now he was baffled. He stared at the cut, obviously trying to decide if it was possible that it could have been an accident. Apparently deciding it wasn't, he said cautiously, "Spencer, did someone do that to you?"

"No." What was intended as a firm denial came out as a squeak, and she averted her eyes in an attempt to regain some of her dignity. "No. Nobody did that to me."

He leaned in closer, to get a better look, and she struggled not to pull back. It was embarrassing, it was frustrating, and it made her feel like crying again. She hated feeling that way, especially in front of Wren, someone for whom she so desperately wanted to be strong.

"Did you…" He swallowed nervously, and went on, "Did you do that to yourself?"

"No," she said again, suddenly defensive. This time she did yank her arm back, leaving Wren looking startled and hurt. She'd gone to him because she'd hoped it would be easier than going to the hospital, but his questions were making her skin prickle; how was she supposed to answer them?

"That wasn't an accident." Wren's words were tentative, pattering down on Spencer's heart like light rain. "And if you didn't do it, and if nobody else did… then how did it happen?"

Although she tried to prevent it, that was the exact moment Spencer's resolve faded away. She took a long sip of coffee, trying to calm her nerves, and then she admitted, "I don't remember."

Wren's befuddlement grew. "You don't remember?"

It sounded ridiculous, Spencer knew that, and she didn't blame him for being sceptical. But it was true, and she needed him to believe that. She didn't know why it mattered so much, but she knew that she needed him to understand. "I woke up this morning, and it was… there."

He looked like he wanted to ask more questions, like he was sorting through the possibilities in his mind until he found the right one. Finally he said, "Does this mean anything to you? An _A_? That seems rather specific."

"It is." After such a long time being silent, speaking out seemed indecent, and every fiber in Spencer's being screamed at her to let it go, to push Wren away, to take her secrets to what would undoubtedly be an early grave. "A was… is… someone who's been bullying me and my friends. For a long time now."

Wren's eyes drifted back to the cut on Spencer's arm, and, self-conscious, she covered it up again. "Spencer, this seems a lot more serious than just bullying."

"I guess that's probably the wrong word," she said. "_Tormenting_ might be more appropriate."

Wren hadn't been in Rosewood back when Mona was outed as being their bully, and he didn't seem to know anything about it. Spencer certainly hadn't told him, and nobody else would have. Now, somehow, he was one of very few people who knew about this second A, this A-Team, who were more deadly and more dangerous than Mona had been.

"Why haven't you told anyone about this?" Wren asked, his voice made softer than usual by sympathy and concern.

"What am I supposed to say?" Spencer shot back, more harshly than she meant. "A knows _everything_ about us. They can use it all against us if we ever try to take them down."

"Is that what this is?" Wren gestured to her arm. "Did you get too close?"

"Something like that." Spencer folded her arms on the table, looking away again. She was sure now that this was her punishment, and she was equally sure she had to bear it alone. Surely by now Emily and Hanna would know what had happened to Aria, and she didn't want them having to worry about her too. She needed to be strong, needed to be there for her friends, and she couldn't do that if she let herself fall apart.

"You need to go to the police."

Spencer jerked her head toward Wren. The very mention of the police made her uneasy; it had never been a real option. "No," she said quickly. "We can't. Please, don't tell anyone about this. I can't have anyone know."

"Spencer, this is serious -"

"Don't you think I know that? I get that this is dangerous, but it's even more dangerous when we don't play by A's rules. People don't just get hurt, they can _die_ if they get in A's way. I can't risk that."

Wren looked at her, torn. She understood the battle he was facing; he wanted to protect her, but he respected her too much to go behind her back. So for now, he let it drop, her immediate wellbeing more important than pressing her to take action. "Well, at the very least let me take a look at it, okay?"

Unfolding her arms, Spencer once again revealed the mark, the brand, the scar that she would always have. Wren gingerly touched the edge of it, watching to see if it hurt her, and she forced herself not to react.

"It doesn't look too bad," he announced. "I have a couple of creams in my car that could help, but for now just keep it clean and dry."

"Okay."

He stood up to go to his car, but then he noticed the way that Spencer's hand had drifted up her other arm, and was now absently rubbing the spot where the dart had struck her. She wasn't even aware she was doing it, and when she followed Wren's gaze she was surprised too. She stopped at once, but it had been enough to arouse suspicion.

"Is something else bothering you?"

She considered lying, but given how much she'd already told him, there didn't seem to be much point. "Yeah. I just… got cut by something last night."

"Is this something else you can't remember?"

She did remember. Everything. The shock, the pain, the terror. But she could never put that into words, never explain it to another living soul. She wasn't sure she could even explain it to herself, or understand it all. She had never felt like that before, and she never wanted to feel like that again.

"Do you want me to take a look at it?"

She hesitated, the nodded, falling into Wren's compassionate eyes, getting lost; as if she wasn't lost enough already. He approached her slowly, careful not to spook her, and she appreciated it. Equally slowly, she pushed her shirt off her shoulder, pushing it down until the mark from the dart was visible. For a horrible moment she thought he would somehow be able to recognize it, be able to tell what it was from. But he just frowned and said, "I haven't seen anything like this. It's unusual, and looks like it might be infected." He ran a hand along it, checking for swelling. She shivered at his touch, but managed to control her skittering thoughts. "Maybe I could -"

His words were cut off as the door swung open, and both Wren and Spencer turned to it, startled, frozen as if they had been caught doing something indecent. Toby stood in the doorway, a greeting falling from his lips, coming up short as he caught sight of Spencer in such close proximity to her former lover.

Even as a thousand excuses and explanations sped through Spencer's mind, which was still slow thanks to the events of last night, she knew that nothing she could ever say would make this right. She wondered if anything would ever be right again.

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**I know a few of my readers aren't really Wrencer fans, but I hope you stuck with it. Next chapter is largely Spoby, and the one after that is when Spencer is reunited with the girls. It gets better, promise. ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Another 5K down, another chapter up. Before I start, can I ask you guys a favor? If you want to read more of my writing, would you mind heading over to my profile and voting on my poll to help me decide what to work on next? Thanks!**

**Forever Courage: well, it's Rosewood, so it's highly likely that EVERYBODY knows something they're not letting on. But just remember that it's me, and even if you (or I) like a character, it doesn't mean they're innocent either. ;)  
FabsirellaPrincesOfPopcornia: thank you for being so polite! I love Wren, but I know a lot of people don't, so it's nice when people can politely express that. And he's definitely good for creating some Spoby tension, as you'll see here...  
Runawaybaby555: I can't even respond to the first half of your review because re-reading it will probably make me die of laughter. This chapter makes things a little easier on poor Spence - although not for Wren, poor guy can't catch a break. Keep your guesses about A's identity coming - not that I'll tell you even if you're right, but it will amuse me.  
spencie: here ya go. Let me know what you think.  
charmedrocks333: thank you! I hope you enjoy the chapter. I figured it was time for a little Spoby to lighten up the mood.  
eveningshades1107: well, you caught me. Everyone go home, you figured it out. The entire population of Rosewood is A, and they banded together to put a stop to Spencer's amazingness because it was making them all look bad.  
Spobyistruelove: thank you! As I've said before I'm a massive Wrencer shipper, but I have no problem with people who aren't - as long as they respect that Wren will make appearances in a lot of my stories. So thanks for being so respectful. And I hope this chapter puts you at ease; Spoby will stay together... for now at least.  
Guest 1: aw, thank YOU. I hope you keep enjoying it.  
Guest 2: here you go, hope you enjoy it.  
RinShade: Aria will make an appearance next chapter, and you'll find out her side of the story, so stay tuned. Thanks for the review!  
KooshGID: thanks for the review, and I hope you like the chapter! And thank you - I'm hoping to hit 20K today, so wish me luck.**

**Did I get everyone? If not, feel free to hate me forever. As always, review, favorite, follow, whatever, and I'll see you next chapter.**

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"Toby," Spencer said, rising from her seat and shrugging her shirt back over her shoulder, but her transparent effort to minimize the damage didn't change the way Toby was looking at them. Confusion had given way to something bordering on anger, and she honestly couldn't tell if it was directed at her or Wren. She wanted to go to him, to leap into his arms, but with the way he was looking now, she wasn't sure he'd catch her.

"I didn't know you were expecting company," Wren said calmly, looking from Toby to Spencer and back again.

"I wasn't," Spencer said, part apology, part explanation. She turned back to Toby, who hadn't moved from his place in the doorway. "Toby, what are you doing here?"

"Your friends called me. They haven't heard from you since yesterday, and they were worried." His words sounded faraway, like someone else was saying them, like all his energy was going into the fire that was blazing in his eyes.

Spencer knew that Toby had always been suspicious of her relationship with Wren, but time and time again she had assured him that there was nothing to worry about. She and Wren were over, finished, if they even started. Yet this was a situation she didn't think even she could talk her way out of.

"Wren was just…" She fumbled for an explanation, something to take away the anger in Toby's eyes, but she wasn't sure any words could dampen the blaze. "He was helping me with something."

As far as excuses went, this was one of her least believable, and she watched as Toby narrowed his eyes, clenched his fist, and carefully closed the door behind him. When he turned back around he seemed calmer, but it was very forced, controlled, like he was on the edge and wondering if it was worth letting himself fall.

"Is it something I should know about?" Toby asked, and there was the hint of a challenge in his voice. _What can you tell him that you can't tell me?_

Spencer shot a panicked glance at Wren. The reason she'd called him was because she wanted to keep Toby out of this mess. She wanted to keep him and the girls safe, and the only way to do that was to make sure he wasn't involved. Now it seemed like that plan had completely backfired, and she was about to lose him anyway.

"It's -" She couldn't say 'nothing', 'complicated' wouldn't go unquestioned, so she just shrugged helplessly and let her sentence trail off.

"I was here to help Spencer with -" Wren offered but Toby cut him off with a look that was sharp enough to make a lesser man cower. But Wren deflected it easily, lowering his head slightly by way of apology, and waiting for Toby to go on.

"I wasn't asking you." Toby curled and uncurled his fist, and looked at his girlfriend. "I was asking Spencer."

"I don't know what to say." Spencer looked at Toby and then at Wren, between the two men who had, at one time or another, held her heart. She wanted to keep both of them safe, but at the moment she couldn't even keep _herself_ out of danger. How was she supposed to protect them when she didn't even know who – or what – she was protecting them from?

"Perhaps I should go," Wren said hesitantly, waiting for Spencer's confirmation nod before he started moving toward the door. He paused when he was a few paces away, and then said, "If you want to continue this, you know how to reach me."

As soon as the door closed behind Wren, Toby exhaled sharply, all the anger in him fading. Although some of it had been genuine, a lot of it had been feigned, a bluff in order to make it clear that Wren wasn't welcome here. Spencer knew it wasn't necessary – she could have just asked Wren to leave, and he would have been out the door before she even had time to say goodbye – but if it made Toby feel better, she wasn't going to argue.

"I'm sorry." Spencer sank back into the chair, and Toby was at her side in an instant, seeing how weak she still was but not yet knowing the cause. And how could she possibly tell him?

"Are you okay?" he asked, resting a hand on her injured shoulder; she tried not to flinch.

"I'm fine," she said, thinking, _Don't cry. Keep it together_.

"You're not fine." Toby drew up a chair and sat down beside her, knowing her far too well to let such a feeble lie appease him. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened."

"Spencer. Look at me."

When her eyes met his, she felt a temporary calm wash over her. He was so gentle, so caring, and it would kill him to know what had happened. But she couldn't keep it from him, could she, after all they'd been through together?

Toby opened his mouth like he wanted to ask another question, to press her for answers, but after a brief indecision he just gently lowered her head onto his shoulder, stroking her hair with one hand and reaching for her hand with the other. Spencer closed her eyes, letting herself, for this one moment, feel safe. Toby was here; Toby was hers. She was safe.

"I don't want to push you for answers," he said quietly after a while, still stroking her hair in a way that made her heart slow down to a gentle thud, "but you know that you can tell me anything, don't you?"

She wanted to say _yes_, to say that she trusted him and she loved him more than she could say, but instead she said, "I don't think I can."

"Why not?" The stroking ceased, just for a second, and then picked up again, more unsure now.

"I don't… I don't remember what happened," she confessed. Just the sound of it made her break; she was supposed to be the girl who was always at her best, always on top of everything, and she couldn't let her guard down, not around her friends, not even around Toby.

"What do you mean?" he asked, pulling away so she looked up at him. "You don't remember?"

Spencer sat upright, wondering how to explain. Then she noticed the scrunched up piece of paper she'd left on the bench. Toby followed her gaze and then raised an eyebrow questioningly; she nodded, and he reached out and picked it up.

"This is what happens when you cross me. –A," he read aloud, and then frowned. "What does that mean? What did A do to you?"

_So much for keeping this quiet_, she thought, starting to roll up her sleeves. Then hesitation kicked in again and she stopped, instead saying, "Does Aria remember what happened last night?"

"She didn't mention anything, although she was at school so she couldn't talk for long."

"A… got to her," Spencer explained, feeling a rush of relief – her mind was still working slowly, and she hadn't been in any fit state to go looking for Aria. But Toby would have told her if something major had happened; if Aria was well enough to be at school, she'd be okay, wouldn't she? "I managed to save her, but… well, then A got to me too."

"Oh god." Toby's eyes widened, his hand flying out to catch hers almost instinctively, as if he had to be touching her in order to know that she was okay. "What did A do?"

"I don't know," Spencer said honestly. "I blacked out or something. When I woke up I was in the living room, and I couldn't remember anything from last night after the point where I left Aria."

"And you think A did something to you?" Toby prompted.

Chewing the inside of her lip, Spencer nodded. "It fits. I don't know what they did, aside from…"

She stopped talking, aware she'd said too much. She expected Toby to pounce on the hint like a terrier pounces on a fox, but instead he let it pass, his mind darting ahead to other, equally unpleasant, topics.

"So why was Wren here? Did he just show up?" The contempt in his voice was so evident it made Spencer cringe.

"No. I called him."

"Why?"

"I needed him to look at something." They were back here, and she was back to not knowing how to explain but being unable to hide it. The implications of this statement settled over both of them, heavy and almost suffocating. Spencer felt like she couldn't breathe. She needed to move, she needed to run, but was she running to something or away from it? Was there anywhere she could even go?

"Hey," Toby said gently. "Are you okay?"

She tried to nod, but the room faded before her eyes. She could smell moss and damp leaves – had it been raining? – and she could hear a stick cracking. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, and her legs were aching. She knew she needed to get out of here, but there was nowhere else to go. She was trapped, stuck, a deer in the headlights, a fly in a web. Caught.

A spider crawled up her leg and she flicked it off, heart hammering in her chest and breath catching in her throat. Was this real? Was she dreaming? The spider hit the ground, and then it crawled away, off through thick foliage and into the darkness. Was she dying? Was she already dead?

"Spencer."

Something touched her leg and she jerked back, but the presence persisted. Not a spider falling to the ground, not a dart slamming into her arm, not a knife at her neck. It was warm, gentle. A hand on her knee. Whose hand was that? Where was she?

"Spencer, talk to me."

As suddenly as it started, the flashback – or was it just a dream? – ended, and she snapped back into reality. The Hastings kitchen was as bright and impersonal as always, but somehow now it seemed more like home. It seemed safe, welcoming. The harsh lights made her blink, clearing away the rest of the fog from the dream.

"I'm okay," she said, no more than a whisper, wind through the trees, a splash in the ocean.

"Spence, I want to help you, but I need to know what's going on. There's something you're not telling me. What is it? Why was Wren here? Does he know something I don't?"

The questions were like bolts of lightning on her resolve, breaking it down until it – she – was nothing. A had already done so much, and she knew it could get much worse if she told anyone else about this. Telling Wren had been bad enough, but _Toby_? That was sure to get on A's nerves. But she couldn't ignore those expressive blue eyes, couldn't keep it to herself. A was already after her. She may as well give them a reason. "I…"

She left the word hanging, and then silently rolled up her sleeve, revealing the _A_. A beat passed, and then another, and she couldn't bear to look at him. Finally she felt him pull her to him, murmuring, "Spence," and then she was crying again.

She nestled into his shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut tight in an effort to block out the horrors, but they were all in her mind, and not even Toby's tender touch could erase them. Not even his gentle words could make it okay that A had done this to her, that A had hurt Aria, that Spencer didn't remember what had happened.

She knew that, and she could feel her emotions swirling around, and she could sense her heartbeat speeding up again, to the point where she was sure it would break out of her chest and flutter away, leaving her nothing but an empty shell.

But for now, she told herself she was safe, as she lay her head against Toby and let his steady breathing wash over her. For now she was okay, and maybe that's all she could ask for.

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**Stay tuned - Spencer will see her friends next chapter. How much do you think she'll tell them? How will they react? (And how much Sparia can I cram into one chapter? Read the next one to find out.)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi guys. Thanks for the reviews last chapter; I don't have time to reply to all of them individually this chapter, but I did read and appreciate every single one. This is one of my favorite chapters, for various reasons, and I really hope you like it. It should explain a few things too. As always, review, it'll make me really happy and help encourage me to update again soon. And hit me with your theories: who is A? What do they want? Who's hiding what and where is this going to go? I looove hearing your thoughts. So enjoy, and I'll see you next time. Oh, and if you haven't already, I'd really appreciate it if you could swing by my profile and vote on the poll; thanks to everyone who's already done so. :)**

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"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Toby wrapped one arm protectively around Spencer's shoulders, his other hand hesitating on the doorknob.

"They're right outside the door," Spencer pointed out. "I can't exactly ignore them."

"You'd be surprised how quickly I can make people change their minds." Toby gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, gently kissing the top of her head. "But if you're sure…"

Spencer nodded, bracing herself for what would happen when he opened the door. After spending all afternoon curled up in Toby's lap, alternating between sleeping fitfully and crying, she'd decided that it was time to talk to her friends. She wasn't going to tell them everything, but she needed to let them know she was okay – well, she was alive, anyway. And she needed to check up on Aria too.

Toby opened the door, and in a rush her friends swooped in, a mixture of relief, well-wishes, and confusion. The door drifted closed behind them, and they stood in front of it, their eyes widening by increments as they saw Spencer. She'd cleaned herself up as best she could, but she still had a few cuts and scrapes, and there was a tiredness in her eyes that she couldn't hide.

"Do you need me to stay?" Toby murmured into Spencer's ear.

She looked up into his eyes, feeling his undivided devotion wash over her like a physical force, a wave that filled her for a moment and then faded away, leaving her slightly cold. He'd forgiven her for everything, stood unflinchingly by her side; once he'd found out what had really happened he'd apologized to her, and even offered to apologize to Wren. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms again and let him field questions from the girls, but she knew she had to do this herself.

"It's okay." She stood on the balls of her feet to give him a quick kiss, and then waited for him to leave before she turned her attention to her friends. She opened her mouth, not even sure what she was going to say, but before she could speak Aria threw herself at her, wrapping her arms around the taller girl so tightly that Spencer couldn't breathe.

Staggering backwards a couple of steps, Spencer looked to the other two girls for an explanation.

"What the hell happened?" Hanna demanded. "Aria said you saved her last night, after A left her practically cataclysmic in the woods, and then you didn't show up to school -"

"First of all, it's catatonic," Spencer corrected, disentangling herself from Aria and leading the way up to her room. Once they were all settled – Spencer and Aria on the bed, the other two in the window seat – she went on, "And second of all, I tried calling you guys today. Where were you?"

"All our phones were mysteriously missing," Emily said, crossing her legs and frowning. "I thought it was just carelessness when I couldn't find mine, but I think… maybe A took them. It was like A didn't want us to contact anyone. We got all our cells back throughout the day, and we tried calling you, but you didn't answer. When we couldn't reach you we tried Toby."

"A probably didn't want me contacting you," Spencer said, thinking that they must have called when she was up in the bathroom, cleaning up this mess.

"What do you mean?" Hanna shared a confused look with the others.

"I…" Spencer's hand trailed up her arm, landing on the _A_ cut that was hidden beneath her sleeve. It felt hot to the touch, and she almost winced; and for just a moment she almost told her friends about it. But they were already looking at her with such concern, such heartbreaking love, that she knew she couldn't take it if she gave them another reason to worry about her. "A drugged me," she admitted slowly, the words slipping through her lips like sour candy. She licked her lips, swallowed, waited for the reaction.

"What?" Aria's mouth dropped open and she shifted closer to Spencer, as if worried that if she let her get too far away A would slip in between them and take her again. "What did they do?"

"I don't… I don't know." Spencer folded her arms and looked away, willing them not to ask any more questions. But she knew they could already tell that something was wrong, something deeper; she was nowhere near as driven, as in-charge, as _Hastings_ as she should be right now. "I found Aria, and I brought her back here -"

"Wait," Aria interrupted. "You brought me back here? Then how did I wake up in my own bed?"

"A probably…" Spencer trailed off with a shrug.

"So I didn't dream that," Aria mused, and then, "I thought I dreamed you bringing me back here. I came to briefly, and thought I saw you with me here, but then I woke up properly at home. So I figured you left me there and went back home yourself. I started getting worried when you didn't show up to school, and even more so when we couldn't find our phones."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

Emily raised her eyebrows. "Are you actually apologizing right now? Spencer, A _drugged_ you."

"I know," Spencer said, hanging her head. She knew she had every right to hold her head up high; she'd saved Aria, she'd somehow escaped from A – or had A let her go? – and she was trying to be strong for her friends. But she couldn't even look them in the eyes.

"So what happened then?" Hanna asked gently.

"I don't remember." Spencer started picking at her sleeve, and then at the edge of her pillow, and finally she forced her hands to be still. "I brought Aria here, I cleaned her up, and then… nothing. Not until I woke up this morning."

"Nothing?" Hanna echoed, and Spencer shook her head. "So… how do you know it was A then?" The other three all turned to her, incredulous, and she held her hands up in surrender. "Hey, I agree, it probably was A. I'm just saying, how do we _know_?"

"I know," Spencer said, such finality in her voice that her friends didn't argue.

"That's weird though, right?" Emily said. "I mean, A just kidnapped both of you, separately, and then took you back to your own houses. Even for A, that's just weird."

"It doesn't make much sense," Emily agreed. She picked up a long-stemmed flower from the vase on Spencer's windowsill and started twirling it between her fingers, her mind evidently elsewhere. "Do you think A was trying to scare us?"

"If she was, it worked," Aria said grimly, sharing a look with Spencer, the fear in her eyes almost unbearable.

"Yeah." Spencer watched Emily fiddle with the flower, the colors twisting together until Emily's fingers and the petals were just one blurred mass. Like leaves beneath her feet, twigs in her hair, the woods all around her. _Not now_, she told herself, knowing where this was going. But her eyesight faded and she was back in the woods, running, panting, terrified. And then she was in her living room, blood everywhere, fear making her choke, uncertainty making her stumble. And then she was –

The cool tiles of the bathroom wall pressing against the palms of her hands was the first indication that she'd moved. She didn't remember getting up from the bed, dashing to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Now she was leaning against the wall, breathing hard, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She closed her eyes, trying to regain her composure, but it only served to throw her mind back to last night.

Darkness; night. Red; blood. Pain.

"Spence?"

Her eyes flew open, staring blankly at the patterned wall in front of her. The pattern – two intertwining vines encircling a line of flowers – repeated every six tiles. She started counting them; one repetition, two, three. Five repetitions along the left and right walls, only four along the front and back. She ran her hand along the one nearest her, counting the leaves; thirteen leaves on each vine. Seven petals on each second flower, eight on the others.

"Spence, are you okay?"

She turned her attention to the bottle of moisturizer sitting on the sink. The label said it was 205 mL, and it looked like it only had four fifths left. That made it about 164 mL; she felt like she'd lost at least that much blood last night, although logically she knew she hadn't.

"Spence, come on. Open the door."

Eleven steps from the door to the shower. Nine from the shower to the sink. Six deep breaths until she could force the images from her mind. She was here, she was safe. Her friends were just outside. A was not. A couldn't touch her, not while they were here. And she shouldn't be letting A get to her like this.

Two more seconds until she opened the door.

"Are you okay?" Aria asked, looking worried. She sounded worried, too, although Spencer couldn't quite hear it above the rushing of blood in her ears.

"I'm fine," she said unconvincingly.

Aria didn't say anything, just looked at her. And bit by bit Spencer felt her resolve melt away, leaving behind an uneasy kind of relief. If she could just let herself be real, be vulnerable…

"At least, I want to be." The words made her feel small somehow, like she'd admitted some fatal flaw. "I have to be."

"No, you don't." Aria stepped forward, wrapping her arms around her friend. "You just need to let us in."

When they pulled away, Spencer finally looked her friend in the eye. "How are you doing this? Keeping it so together?"

"You think this is keeping it together?" Aria let out a shaky laugh, crossing her arms over herself. "Spence, after last night I don't think I'll ever be able to sleep again. One minute I was sitting at home in my room, and the next I'm waking up on your couch covered in blood and with a raging headache. And then I'm in my room at midnight, with bruises I can't explain and cuts that just seem to keep bleeding."

"You don't remember anything either?" Spencer asked.

Aria shook her head, her pigtails swinging. "A must've… done all that while I was out."

"I'm sorry," Spencer offered, unable to think of anything more comforting. Wasn't she supposed to be the eloquent one, with answers and advice to every situation? Had A really taken that away from her, on top of everything else?

"It's not your fault," Aria said with a slight shrug. "But thanks."

They shared a smile, one of solidarity from shared trauma, and then Aria asked if Spencer was ready to head back to the others. She wasn't, but she nodded anyway, following the dark-haired girl back towards her bedroom. Emily and Hanna were whispering, but they stopped as soon as the other two walked in. Hanna gave Spencer a sympathetic look, and Emily seemed like she was about to hug her. But neither of them said anything as Spencer and Aria sat back down on the bed. They didn't ask where she'd been, or anything more about what she'd been through.

Grateful, Spencer stayed silent, falling further into herself while the other three – mostly Emily and Hanna, since Aria was almost as shaken up as she was – discussed A's latest scheme and how they could go about stopping things from getting any worse. Finally, as the sun was going down, they parted ways. Hanna was the first to go, then Emily a few minutes later. Aria stood to leave, but Spencer grabbed her hand. She hated being so weak, hated admitting that she needed someone… but she did.

"I can stay the night," Aria offered, not needing to be told how much her best friend needed her.

"Please." Spencer's voice was hardly more than a whisper.

Without a word, Aria sat down beside her. They lay down on the bed, silent, lost in their own thoughts but thankful for the company. Night fell, and so did Spencer's mood; time passed, but her feelings didn't. And even with her best friend beside her, she'd never felt so alone.

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**I promised you Sparia, didn't I? ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi all. First off, apologies to everyone who's PMed me and is awaiting a reply. I will get around to it, I promise, I'm just swamped at the moment. Thank you for all your reviews last chapter, they really meant a lot. Also, if you guys are at all interested, I thought I'd let you know that my NaNo experience is not going well this year. I'm losing a lot of interest and motivation, so if you guys wanted to throw some words of encouragement into your reviews, it wouldn't go amiss. ;)**

**Okay, about this chapter. It's one of my favorites, but it's also a little graphic, so if it makes you uncomfortable please stop reading and go look up pictures of kittens or something. That said, here it is, enjoy!**

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There were, Spencer discovered that night, an infinite number of ways in which fear could manifest itself. This was actually a discovery for her because, until now, she had never dealt with fear on such a level. Ever since the A drama had started she'd been nervous, cautious, apprehensive, and about a hundred other adjectives that described a general uneasiness. But fear, _real fear_, had been absent until this moment.

But that night, lying awake on her bed while Aria slept fitfully beside her, she found out just how real fear could be. Shadows became hands reaching for her; leaves rustling became ominous whispers; every sound a threat, every silence an even greater one. She wasn't sure if she was scared because she didn't know what was out there, or precisely because she did.

A was out there. A, whoever it was, whoever they were – it was a team, after all, but all the members she'd known of had since been ejected – was out there, watching her. Waiting for her. Making sure she didn't mess up again. Their message was clear; she had to hold her tongue. But for how long? If she did something A didn't like, would they take it out on her again? Or would they go after one of her friends? Would they be punished for her mistakes?

She gently nudged Aria's arm off where it had been draped over Spencer's stomach, and slid from the bed. Being sure not to wake her – what time was it, anyway? – Spencer padded over to the bathroom, locking the door behind her just in case. Then she rolled back her sleeve and forced herself to look at the damage beneath. The _A_ was still there – for the first few minutes after she woke she'd entertained the feeble hope that perhaps it had been a dream – and it had the same effect it had the last time she'd looked. She wondered briefly if the effect wasn't just to scare her; if it was meant to be a signal to others. Her own Scarlet Letter, meaning: _Stay away, she's not safe. _She wondered who'd heed such a warning.

It stood out, glaring like an accusation. _Look at what you've done. You betrayed us and you couldn't even keep your friends safe_. It was a sign of her failure, a reminder of her shortcomings. _You could have saved them all. Now you can't even save yourself. _It was a warning, a punishment; mocking, taunting. _This is what we can do to you. If you put a foot out of line, we can do much worse._

Squaring her shoulders, she looked at herself in the mirror. There was still that look in her eyes – haunted, hunted, wary – but behind that was something she recognized, some trace of her former self, the one that had seemingly been lost two days ago. So maybe it wasn't gone entirely, and that was encouraging.

"You are not going to let A get to you like this," Spencer said aloud, firmly, as if her mind could control her heart – like that had ever worked. "You are going to suck it up, get through this, and take that bitch _down_."

She finished it up with a confident smile, tried to tell herself it was genuine, and then set about getting ready for the day. Aria only woke when Spencer sat down on the end of the bed and started searching under it for her favorite boots.

"Spence?" Aria said, sitting up in bed and blinking drowsily. "What time is it?"

"Just after seven," Spencer replied, dragging her boots out from under the bed and then turning to face her friend. There were dark circles under Aria's eyes, and even more darkness in them; so Spencer wasn't the only one haunted by the events of this week. "How'd you sleep?" she asked gently.

"Like a baby," Aria responded sarcastically. She stretched, rolling back the covers that Spencer had put over her during the night. "You?"

"I didn't." Spencer pulled her boots on, tied her hair back, and then, ignoring the sympathetic look she was receiving, said, "You want coffee?"

"Of course." Aria stood up, running a hand through the tangles in her hair. "Want me to make it?"

"I got it." Spencer headed for the door, pausing with her hand on the knob when Aria called out her name. "Yeah?" she said, turning.

"Don't make it too strong, okay?"

Spencer laughed, for what felt like the first time in months, and Aria joined in.

"I'll try to tone it down a bit for you," Spencer said, heading out into the hall. Things felt almost normal; or at least as normal as they could be, given the circumstances. But she had the feeling that everything would soon be crashing down around her again, and despite her pep talk only a few minutes before, she wasn't sure she'd be ready for the aftermath.

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The other two were waiting for them when they got to school. Spencer ducked her head and tried to avoid their sympathetic looks, and Aria deflected their questions – How did you sleep? Are you feeling better today? – with mumbles, and eventually they dropped it. By unspoken agreement none of them mentioned A, and although Spencer found it hard to concentrate on school it was also a good distraction, if she could keep her mind from wandering.

But by third period her mind had wandered so far away that she was almost tempted to declare it lost. She couldn't keep track of her thoughts, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. The brief burst of positivity from this morning had faded into a dim kind of desolation, and even with four cups of coffee in her system she felt like she was running on empty. By lunch it was hard enough to keep her eyes open, let alone pay attention to the conversation drifting around her.

"You look like a zombie, Spence," Hanna said. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Not so much."

"Why don't you go home?" Emily suggested. "You could skip the last couple of periods. With your record it won't make much of a difference."

Normally the thought of leaving school early didn't sit well with Spencer, but she didn't even have it in her to protest even a little bit vehemently. Instead she just shrugged, which was enough to arouse suspicion in the others; Spencer apathetic about school was like Hanna losing interest in shopping, or Emily in swimming, or Aria in writing. None of them was sure how to bring it up with her, though, so they didn't, and she breathed an internal sigh of relief when conversation turned back to school projects and homework.

When lunch finished she farewelled her friends and headed off to AP French, stopping by her locker to pick up her book. As she was closing the door, something caught her attention. It was just a feeling, and then it was suddenly something more. Something almost tangible, yet barely perceptible; something there and yet not. A scent drifted towards her, like vanilla and coconut, and with it came a memory.

Painfully clear. Terrifyingly detailed. Uncomfortably familiar.

_Nothing was visible, but she knew her eyes were open. She could feel a pressure on her arms, something holding them down, pinning them to the chair she was seated on. Straight-backed, wooden, unyielding. Her feet were bare, and the floor beneath them was cold; she tried to pull them up, to reduce the contact with the ice-cold surface, but her legs too were bound to the chair. A voice nearby was muttering, and she caught snippets like 'waking up' and 'now she'll see'. Someone approached her from behind, and she could feel their gloved hand brushing her shoulder. She shivered._

And suddenly she was back in the hallway. The vanilla-coconut scent had faded; whoever was bearing it must have gone down the hall. She stared through the crowd, looking for a familiar face – a black hoodie, a red coat, someone with a spring in their step like they were on the edge of a plan – but all she saw were teenagers trudging along, bored to death and waiting for the day to end.

She needed to follow that scent. Did it have something to do with A? Could she finally find out what happened to her that night? Without thinking, without even caring that she was now officially late for French, she walked down the hall, clutching her book to her chest as if that would somehow protect her from the deluge of memories that was now threatening to drown her. The first memory had unlocked the floodgates, and now as she walked she couldn't concentrate on what was right in front of her; she was getting sucked into her memory, back to that night.

_The figure walked in front of her, black hood low so she couldn't see their face._

_"What do you want?" Spence slurred, still under the effects of whatever A – the person in front of her – had dosed her with._

_"You'll see," came the reply, in a voice that seemed neither male nor female, but somehow both. In her drug-affected state, she couldn't tell._

Her mind must have blocked it out, so used to associating A, Head A, with a nameless, faceless person, someone who wanted to cause her and her friends true harm. Someone who may even want to kill them. Had she really been that close to them, only to have the memory fade?

_"S-stop…" Spencer's voice was weak and wobbly, not convincing in the slightest – as if the figure would even allow themself to be dissuaded. "Please…"_

_"Oh, honey, we're just getting started."_

_Stop_, Spencer said to her mind. She didn't want to relive this, didn't want to deal with it. Her footsteps faltered, but she pushed on. She had to find A. She didn't need to know how they hurt her; she didn't need to remember how much pain she was in. She just needed to _catch up_.

_Footsteps echoed on the floor, sounding far away and right beside her, and she couldn't tell where they were coming from until a light snapped on, blinding her. She blinked against the sudden attack on her retinas, and when she opened her eyes again the figure was in front of her._

The scent was fading fast, the hum of conversation dying as students peeled off to their respective classes. The halls were emptying, but Spencer kept on, sure she was getting closer. She had to be.

_Right in front of her. They were holding a knife, its point glistening in the artificial light. Whoever it was, they were smiling. They were enjoying this. Spencer squirmed, wriggled, writhed, but she was held too tightly. Trapped, completely._

_The figure approached._

Heart pounding, Spencer came to a stop, peering down the hall. It was practically empty now; there was only one person left, down the end. Standing by a locker, the door open so she couldn't see their face. And, unmistakably from that direction, there was the scent of coconut and vanilla, a smell that now made her shudder as she realized the implications. Her attacker, her kidnapper, had been a girl. At least, they'd smelled like a girl. And the voice… could it have been feminine?

_Spencer shrank back, as far as she could within the bonds holding her to the chair. It wasn't far enough, and the figure laughed at her vain attempt. Then their smile faded and they became all business._

_"I'm sorry," they said. That voice. It was so familiar, but she couldn't place it. "I don't really want to do this, but you have to learn. You all have to learn."_

The girl at the end of the hall. She seemed like she was waiting for something, biding her time. Or was Spencer just paranoid? Was she looking too deep into things, jumping to conclusions? The cut on her arm throbbed, and her head pounded, and she wondered briefly if she was going to faint.

_"This is going to hurt, but there's really no alternative. And if you stay still, it won't be so bad," she said, finishing with a giggle._

_That laugh. So close. She'd heard it before, but where?_

_The tip of the knife dug into her arm, making her flinch._

Taking a deep breath, Spencer started moving again. Toward that lone student down the hall. She thought she knew who it was, but she hoped she was wrong.

_The first line of the _A_ finished, she was given temporary relief as the pressure lifted. Blood trickled from the wound and she breathed in sharply, begging herself not to cry out. Then knife met flesh again, and the tears started to fall._

A door opened off to the side and up ahead; her French room. French, the class she was now late for. She wasn't normally late, but she needed to know. She couldn't stand it any longer. She needed to _know_.

_The third line was enough to make her not only cry out but beg for mercy. "Please stop. I'll do anything. I can't…"_

_And then the pain faded, reality's lights dimmed, and she was gone._

The locker door closed as the teacher beckoned the student into class. Then they saw Spencer standing there, shell-shocked, and frowned.

"Miss Hastings?" he asked, clearly wondering why his second-best student was waiting in the halls after class had started. "Will you be joining us?"

"Oui," she said, automatically slipping into French in the presence of the teacher. "Je suis désolé."

He stepped back, letting her follow the top student in the class into the room. And all the while Spencer's mind was reeling as she stared at the girl who was in front of her. The girl whom she had followed into the room. The girl who smelled like coconut and vanilla. The only seat left was beside her, so reluctantly Spencer slid into it and tried not to look at her. But she turned to face her, a seemingly genuine smile on her face.

"Hi Spencer."

Suppressing a groan, Spencer pulled out her pencil case, carefully set it parallel to the edge of her desk, and then said, "Hi Mona."

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**So Spence put the pieces together. What do you think is going to happen next?**

**Here's a snippet from the next chapter, just to keep you interested:**

_But her friends found her, of course. There was no escaping this time, and there was some relief in the inevitability of this conversation. Her friends were persistent, and they wouldn't give up without the answers. She could fight it, but she would lose. She had to tell them. But could she?_


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi everyone. Taking a break from studying to update this quickly. No time/energy to reply to everyone but thank you all for the reviews, and quick shoutout to ****hopeforspoby**** for your lovely words; in all honesty there have been a lot of times recently I've thought of giving up on writing (my inner editor is very talkative), so I can't tell you how much that means. All right, love you all, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Don't forget to let me know what you think (more reviews means I'm more likely to squeeze in time to update sooner), and I'll see you next time.**

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It was Friday, four days after Spencer had woken up in her bed with no recollection of the night before. She'd thought that was bad, as she gradually put together the pieces: the mud on her feet, the cut on her arm, the dirt on her face. She'd thought it was horrible to have to search the entire house just to make sure she was alone, to make sure nobody was watching her. She'd thought it was unspeakably awful having to call Wren and ask for help, having to tell the truth to Toby, and, even more, having to lie to her friends. That had all been hard, in the absence of having any definite truth to cling to, any knowledge of the horrors that had left her so traumatized.

But that was nothing.

She could now remember just about everything from that night, and instead of easing her anxiety it had only increased her distress. It just meant more secrets to keep from her friends, more fears to keep to herself. Those initial memories, the ones she'd gained after the vanilla-coconut scent had triggered it, hadn't increased in number, but in clarity. They were now unbearably clear. She remembered everything from that day, up until she'd rescued Aria and brought her back to her house – and then passed out. She didn't remember where she went after that, or how she got there, but everything she'd experienced in that mystery location was etched into her memory.

A, taunting her. Talking to her. Carving her. The ropes, the darkness, the pain. The feeling of absolute terror and helplessness. And then she passed out again, and then she woke up, and now she was at the tail-end of the worst week of her life.

Her nerves had calmed a little since she'd established that it was Mona who had kidnapped her. She wasn't exactly one hundred percent sure, but as far as hunches went, it was quite a reliable one. Mona had a reason to hate her; she'd acted out against her in the past. And even though Mona claimed she was no longer working for the A-Team, and acting all buddy-buddy with Spencer and her friends, none of them really bought it. Maybe this was all a big ruse, and Mona was on the inside the whole time.

Or maybe, Spencer mused as she smeared a generous serving of jelly on her toast, Mona was trying to gain favor. What better way to win back the trust of Head A than to kidnap, humiliate, and physically harm the girl who had caused so much trouble for the A-Team? What better way to make herself feel better than to take it out on the girl who had been the reason for her expulsion from the team she'd worked so hard to build?

And if it was Mona, that meant that Spencer was in with a chance. She knew how Mona worked, not just from being tormented by her but by being on the team with her. Mona was manipulative, calculating, and flawless when it came to executing even the most complicated of plans. She'd never been so aggressive before, but after everything Spencer had done – turning against the A-Team, pulling Toby away from it – it made sense that Mona's usual brand of revenge wouldn't be sufficient.

So for now all she had to do was avoid Mona. Keep her doors locked, sleep with one eye open, never let her friends out of her sight. And once things calmed down, once the wounds turned to scars and the fear to fury, she could work on taking Mona down. She could do that.

Her phone went off as she was finishing her toast; she glanced at the caller ID, sighed, and then pressed Decline. Another call a few minutes later proved that he really wanted to talk to her, but she was in no mood for it. Although Wren had been supportive that first day, and had even swung by later that week to drop off some antiseptic cream, she knew she wouldn't be able to look at him now without drowning in the pity that was bound to be overflowing in his eyes. He loved her, she knew that, but right now she wished he didn't. She'd hardly even spoken to Toby since then; he and Wren were the only two people she'd told about this, and that made her keen to avoid both of them. It wasn't fair, and she hated it, but there was nothing she could do.

While she was cleaning her plate there was a knock at the door, and before she could call out so much as a 'Come in' the door swung open and Wren walked in, uninvited and not entirely welcome.

"Morning," he said, coming to a standstill at the edge of the kitchen. "Am I interrupting anything?"

Spencer shrugged, indicating the sponge and plate she was holding. "Not really."

He pulled up a chair and sat down at the counter. Although she didn't look at him, she could feel him looking at _her_. She took longer than necessary drying the plate, hoping he'd lose interest and leave. Instead he waited until she'd put the plate away, and then he said, "I haven't heard from you in a while. Are you -?"

"I'm fine." She leaned against the sink, folding her arms and fixing her gaze on him. She needed to keep distance between them; not only because of the way he'd made her feel when he was treating her cut, the way the closeness between them had been as comforting as it was concerning, but because she needed that reminder to herself, not to let anyone get too close.

"Spencer, you don't have to do this by yourself," he said, softly, his words landing on the table between them.

She picked them up, turned them over in her mind, and then looked away. "I know."

"Whatever you're going through, I'm here for you. If you need me to check over that cut again -"

"No," she said, a little too quickly. "It's okay."

"Are you sure? I don't mind."

"I'm sure. But thanks." She gave him a smile, interrupted by her phone going off. _One new message_. "That's Aria. I should get ready for school now."

"Of course." Wren stood up at once, almost as if she'd scolded him; but there was no hurt in his eyes, only concern. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"I will," she promised, although she couldn't help thinking that she would never call him for help again. It wasn't that he'd failed her; he'd done everything he could have. It was that she'd failed herself. She needed to fix this, now. Alone.

Her new resolve lasted until she got to school. Until her friends cornered her in the hall and demanded that she tell them what's wrong.

"You haven't been acting like yourself," Emily accused.

"It's not like we don't know what's bothering you, but I don't know why you can't talk to us about it," Hanna added.

"I know you've been through hell this week," Aria said, when it became clear that she wasn't going to speak, "but so have I. And if we don't stick together A is definitely going to tear us apart."

Spencer backed up, coming to a stop against her locker. Her friends were surrounding her; not in a confrontational way, but in a way that made it clear they weren't going to let her slink away from this one. She'd been avoiding them all week, and they'd picked up on it. She didn't know how to explain things to them, or even if she should. The return of her memories had made her even less thrilled about the idea of opening up. A had threatened her, and if she went against them – Mona? Was she working alone? – she had no doubt they'd go after her friends too. But what constituted something that would elicit a retaliation from A? Surely A was aware that her friends knew something had happened, and did the details really matter? If she told them about it, about what had actually happened, it wouldn't hurt A. Still.

"Spence, talk to us," Aria pressed.

Hesitated flooded through her, rooting her to the spot, sewing her lips shut. She felt a flashback coming on, but she squeezed her eyes shut tight and it faded, leaving her feeling only the slightest bit faint.

"Hey," Hanna said, reaching out to touch her comfortingly on the arm.

Or at least, it would have been comforting, if she hadn't grabbed the exact point that the _A_ lay on. Spencer jerked her hand back, an involuntary movement that caused all her friends to stare at her in confusion.

"I have to go," she muttered, and fled to the bathroom.

But her friends found her, of course. There was no escaping this time, and there was some relief in the inevitability of this conversation. Her friends were persistent, and they wouldn't give up without the answers. She could fight it, but she would lose. She had to tell them. But could she?

"Spencer, what was that?" Hanna stood in front of her, arms folded. Aria and Emily stood on either side of her, and Spencer was forcibly reminded of when they'd confronted her about her involvement on the A-Team. Somehow, this was far more nerve-wracking.

"I can't talk about this," she said, well aware of the desperation in her voice. She was trapped, stuck, helpless. She hated it, but she loved her friends, and she wasn't sure which would win out.

"We're your friends," Emily reminded her. "You can tell us anything. We're not going to hurt you -"

The word _hurt_ made Spencer almost flinch, and her eyes landed on her arm. Before she could look away, the others noticed.

"Spence, what aren't you telling us?" Aria asked, narrowing her eyes.

Spencer bit her lip, contemplating. Exhaustion won out over caution, and she pulled her sleeve up, unable to look at her friends. But she could sense their reaction, their horror, their confusion. Spencer had never felt more vulnerable, not even with Wren or Toby. It wasn't that her friends would judge her or leave her; if nothing else, this whole A-Team mess had proven without a shadow of a doubt that they were entirely loyal to each other. But she was worried they'd see her differently; and if they started treating her like glass, she was sure she'd break.

"Oh, Spence," Hanna gasped, and the other two were apparently too shocked for words.

"Did A do that to you?" Emily asked after a few moments of uncomfortable silence had passed.

"Yeah," Spencer said tightly, still not looking at any of them. "The night that… the other day."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Aria asked, sounding more shocked than hurt.

"I couldn't." The way her words trembled was enough to tell the others that they should back off, and they did, but reluctantly.

"I'm not going to let A hurt you again," Aria said softly, a note of determination ringing out in her voice. She leaned forward and wrapped Spencer up in a hug; after a moment of resistance, Spencer folded into her embrace. Emily and Hanna joined in, and Spencer closed her eyes, realizing that she almost, _almost_, felt safe.

"We're in this together," Emily murmured, and Hanna nodded.

When they finally broke apart, after what seemed like forever – and yet somehow not long enough – Spencer rolled down her sleeve again, self-conscious. She wouldn't have been surprised if a lightning bolt had struck her down for finally revealing this. It seemed there wasn't much A couldn't do.

But the only sounds from outside were the ebb and flow of conversation, a bird singing, a car in the distance. No storms, no lurking danger, no maniacal laughter.

"Do you remember anything else?" Aria asked, still leaning against Spencer, gently, hesitantly, in an effort to comfort her and keep her grounded.

Appreciating the gesture, Spencer focused on the noises outside, and the feeling of her friends beside her, and some of the tension began to lift from her body. "Yeah. I think…" She took a deep breath, trying to decide if it was worth the risk. But she'd already told them this much, and she didn't have all that much to lose anymore. "The person who did this… I think it might have been Mona."

A moment of silence followed her words, and then Hanna huffed; she'd come so close to trusting Mona, and if this hunch was true, it would mean that she'd been wrong. Emily looked like she was going to offer some words of consolation. But it was Aria who spoke first.

"That bitch is going to _die_."

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**#protectiveAria #showdown with #Vanderjesus**

**#staytuned**

**Forgive me for the hashtags, I'm tired and my brain doesn't like working. Seriously though, next chapter's intense, don't miss it.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks again, everyone, you guys are awesome. Reviews make me happier than a cat with a can opener, so keep 'em coming. This is one of my favorite chapters, because, well. Aria. And Mona. The tiny ones in the herd facing off. Over Spencer. What could be better? So please please please review (and feel free to wish me luck for my exam tomorrow, that's not gonna be fun). I'll update when I can, and I hope you enjoy the chapter. :)**

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The silence that followed her statement was broken only by the sound of her footsteps as Aria strode purposefully out the door before anyone could stop her. Emily and Hanna exchanged a startled look.

"Damn it," Spencer muttered, catching the door before it closed and slipping into the corridor, the other girls a step behind.

Aria was already halfway down the hall, but Mona was nowhere in sight.

Spencer sped up, dodging around a group of gossiping freshman who were gathered by one of their lockers. "Aria!" she called. "Wait!"

The smaller girl gave no indication that she'd heard. Cursing herself for revealing her hunch, Spencer hurried after her, aware that Emily and Hanna were just behind her. As much as she disliked Mona – even if she wasn't behind this, she'd still done a lot of unforgiveable things – she didn't want Aria to go after her. Aria was known for having a temper, and her fierce loyalty to her friends had the potential to get her – and the rest of them – in trouble. If Aria blamed Mona for what had happened to Spencer, there was no telling what she would do. Spencer's life was already stressful enough without having to worry about Aria getting hurt, or worse, expelled.

She turned the corner, and suddenly there they were. Aria was standing in front of the double doors, blocking the way, while Mona looked at her in confusion. As Spencer approached, followed by Hanna and Emily, Mona turned around, her puzzled look turning into one of suspicion.

"Am I missing something?" she asked. "Girl Scout meeting, perhaps?"

"You know exactly what this is about." Aria's voice was ice-cold, a few octaves lower than usual, and Spencer thought that if she ever used that tone of voice with her, she'd probably end up in tears.

Mona looked at Aria unflinchingly. "I know you like to think I'm all-knowing and behind everything that goes wrong in your lives, but that's not actually true. So unless you want to tell me what's going on, I suggest you step aside and let me go to study hall."

"Don't you dare take another step," Aria snapped, her eyes as cold as her voice.

"Aria," Spencer said warningly, walking around Mona so she could stand beside her friend. Emily and Hanna stayed where they were, unwilling to intervene. "Come on," Spencer pleaded, tugging at Aria's sleeve. "Don't do this. Not here."

Aria shrugged out of her grip, not taking her eyes off Mona. "I know exactly who you are and what you've done," she said, the fury evident in her voice even if her clenched fists didn't give it away first. "This innocent act isn't fooling anyone. Are you really going to keep denying you had anything to do with the other night?"

"What night?"

The genuine confusion in Mona's voice was enough to make Spencer realize she might have made a mistake. Like herself, Mona hated admitting when she didn't know something, but she seemed actually lost here.

"Let's just go," Spencer urged. "This isn't the time -"

"No, this is exactly the time," Mona interrupted, an edge to her voice like an icicle about to fall. She wasn't known for being rash or impulsive, but she was definitely capable of slow revenge and careful plotting; and on the off-chance she wasn't behind this, Spencer definitely didn't want to get on her bad side. "I want to know what I'm being accused of."

"Don't try to play the victim. After everything you put us through, do you really just think we're going to accept this redemption without asking a few questions? Like, for example, where were you Monday night?"

Mona drummed her perfectly-manicured fingers against her thigh, thinking. "Monday night I was planning for the debate next week. I was with Andrew and Kristen until almost midnight; ask them if you don't believe me."

Aria exhaled slowly, clearly displeased with the fact that Mona seemingly had an alibi. But she wasn't quite ready to give up the fight yet. "Maybe I will," she said.

Spencer shot a look at Emily and Hanna, who were too mesmerized by the scene unfolding before them to be able to be of much help. She turned back to Aria, whose entire body was tense, like an arrow ready to be shot. And it was entirely clear just who she was aimed at. But Spencer knew that if she let Aria go, Mona wasn't the only one who would be hurt.

"Let's _go_," she said again, more firmly.

Once again Aria shrugged her off. "No. Not until we find out if she did it."

"Which brings me back to: what exactly am I supposed to have _done_?"

Aria opened her mouth, but Spencer cut across her. This was her issue, not Aria's, and she needed to finish it. "On Monday night I was drugged and kidnapped – and Aria was too," she explained, ignoring the way her heart lurched as she said the words. She felt weak to admit them, like somehow she should have been able to prevent it. Like being shot with an arrow and then brutally cut was her fault, some reflection on her character. "It was… it was A. And we all know you used to play for that team, so…"

"What did they do to you?" Mona asked, not unkindly; or so Spencer thought. But that couldn't be right. There was no soft undertone, no gentleness. That wasn't _Mona_. "I mean," she went on, with a pointed look at Aria, "it must have been something pretty terribly to have gotten Pippi Longstocking over there all riled up. I haven't seen her this worked up since you were in Radley -"

"Don't." Spencer dug her nails into her hand, made uncomfortable by the reminder of her time in Radley Sanitarium.

She wasn't proud of the time she spent there, of the way Toby's betrayal and apparent death had sent her spinning into such a decline that she'd actually pushed her friends away almost to the point of no return. She knew they loved her, but she hadn't realized just how much she needed them until she finally traded in her white robe for a dress and come home again. Once she was out, but before she'd seen them, she had spent a long time agonizing over the possibility that they might not talk to her again.

"Touchy topic, I see," Mona said, with a trace of… sympathy?

Deciding that the trauma of the week had just messed with her brain – Mona was just playing them, there was no way she was actually on their side, right? – Spencer said, "Look, Mona. We all know what you're capable of. Is it really so much of a stretch to think that you could have done this?"

"No," Mona said thoughtfully, gazing out the window, apparently for dramatic effect seeing as the view only showed an empty parking lot. Then she turned back to Spencer, meeting her gaze before continuing, "I'm not saying I couldn't have done this. I'm saying that I didn't."

"Why should we believe you?" Hanna asked, and Mona whirled around, having forgotten she was there.

The two shared a long look, and Spencer almost felt like she was intruding on something personal. Mona and Hanna had a long history, and the last chapter had been decidedly unpleasant; it had seemed like they were tentatively getting back to a place where they could actually talk to each other, but if Mona had actually done what Aria was accusing her of doing, that would be the end of it. And even if she hadn't, if Hanna couldn't – or wouldn't – believe that Mona was telling the truth, their friendship would end anyway.

"What do I have to gain from lying to you now?" Mona countered, her gaze encompassing all four girls. "Red Coat is after all of us. I know you don't trust me, and I know you don't like me, but we are in this together, whether you like it or not."

"We don't," Emily piped up. "Just for the record."

"Noted." Mona inclined her head slightly, in acknowledgement of Emily's animosity towards her. Of all the girls, Emily had perhaps changed most dramatically since the fire at the lodge; she'd been aggressive toward Mona, distant from the others, and had even been separating herself from Paige. But the way she acted to Mona was definitely the strangest of all; there was something unsettling, Spencer realized, about seeing someone normally so sweet and patient lashing out like this. "Now, if there's nothing else you want to accuse me of, am I allowed to go to class?"

"Fine." Aria sighed, stepping aside at last. "I'm not saying I believe you, but for now I'll let it go. But if I find even the _slightest_ shred of proof that you were behind this, you're going to wish you died in that fire. Are we clear?"

Mona tightened her lips and said nothing. On her way through the door, she paused, turning back to Spencer. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry for what happened to you, and I hope you feel better soon."

As soon as she left, Aria rolled her eyes. "She's not sorry yet, but she will be if we ever find out she was behind this."

"You didn't have to do that," Spencer said, while Emily and Hanna came over to them, the diffusing tension enough to encourage them to approach at last.

"What, defend my friend?" Aria raised an eyebrow. "Spence, someone _kidnapped_ you. And if it was Mona – which, let's face it, makes every kind of sense – then she's just lucky I care about graduating and can't risk expulsion right now. I won't stand for anyone attacking the people I care about."

_It's not your fight, _Spencer wanted to say, but fear of sounding ungrateful made her hold her tongue. "Thanks," she said meekly.

"We should get to class," Hanna pointed out after a while, and the situation was too serious for anyone to even comment on the fact that it was _Hanna_, not Spencer, reminding them.

"Yeah." Aria took a couple of deep breaths, and Spencer imagined she could hear the anger leaving her with each one. When Aria spoke again she definitely seemed less tense, smaller somehow, although the girls all knew the kind of ferocity that lurked beneath. "I'll see you guys later?"

Hanna and Aria disappeared down the hall, toward their respective classes, but Emily stayed behind, watching as Spencer chewed on a thumbnail and debated going to class.

"Are you okay?" Emily asked.

Spencer hesitated, and then shook her head. It seemed too much to say _I'm not sure I'll ever be okay _so she settled for, "It's just been a hard week. I'm absolutely exhausted."

Emily gave her a sympathetic smile, which wrapped itself around Spencer's mind and somehow made her feel the tiniest bit better. She still had her friends, at least. She was no longer so sure it had been Mona who kidnapped her – her sincerity had seemed so real – and she still hadn't told her friends that she _remembered_ what had happened, but right now she was too tired to care. It was the kind of tiredness that came from holding yourself together for just that little bit too long; the threads had started to come loose, catching on sharp memories and the spikes of anxiety and fear, until she was just a mess of string and feelings and exhaustion, ready to collapse in a heap on the floor.

"You know," she said, "I think I might actually go home."

Emily's eyes widened in surprise, but then she nodded in understanding. "Do you want me to drive you?"

"No. I think I'll just get Toby to drive me."

Although Emily wanted to be the one to take her – she had a feeling Emily thought that if she left her, it might be the last time she saw her – Spencer finally talked her out of it. But the sensitive swimmer insisted on staying until Toby picked her up, and Spencer noticed the look they shared as she climbed into his car. It was a question and a promise; he would take care of her. Emily was relieved of her duties.

As Toby pulled out of the school, Spencer leaned her head against the window, wondering when everything would settle down. Or maybe, she mused, the better question was _if_. She was off-balance, struggling to keep up, and she thought it wouldn't be long until she fell too far behind to catch up. Until she gave up.

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**So Mona's pleading innocence. What do you guys think, should our lovely liars believe her, or is she up to her old tricks? Any thoughts or theories? You know I love hearing from you.**

**Until next time...**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey everyone! Thanks for the reviews last chapter. You'll be pleased to know, I'm only 5000 NaNo words and one more exam away from freedom, so I'll be back to my old activity level soon. This chapter is where things really start to heat up, so stick with me as we head into the final showdown. I have a feeling a few of you may not be happy after this chapter, since something happens to somebody we adore (that should give you a huge hint), but everything will work out in the end... oh, who am I kidding. You guys know I'm just as likely to kill people off as let them walk away. So stay tuned to find out what happens. And don't forget to review, I'll love you forever if you do.**

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Even after spending the afternoon with Toby – Toby, with his sweet words and his undying patience – Spencer still wasn't feeling better. She spent the early hours of the evening musing over the fact that the mark on her arm was her Scarlet Letter, a message from A to the world so that everyone would know just how little she was worth. She thought about it so much that she was reasonably sure she could write an essay (albeit a jumbled one) on the subject; what she couldn't do, however, was focus on the mounting pile of schoolwork she actually needed to do.

She spent the latter part of the evening trying to convince herself not to let A get to her, but it was difficult given everything that had happened. Every positive thought she had about herself was interrupted by something darker, some inner sense that she wasn't as good as she should be. Lately she'd felt like she wasn't good enough for anyone. Mona had outsmarted her and was now beating her in two classes, Melissa had commented that her grades were slipping, and even Toby, dedicated as he was, was seeming more distant. And her friends – she couldn't even think about what she'd put them through.

Joining the A-Team. Kidnapping Malcolm. Working with Mona. She'd almost gotten all of them killed at the lodge, and they were no closer to finding out who Red Coat was. And she couldn't shake the memory of how her friends had reacted to everything along the way: their hurt when she lashed out at them after Toby's betrayal; their helplessness as she spiralled into depression; their uncertainty when they visited her in Radley; their cautiousness when she was released; and their confusion when she admitted her A-Team involvement.

And Mona. Spencer remembered everything the other girl had said to her while she was in Radley. Everything about how this was her fault, how she shouldn't have fought so hard against her, how if she'd just been _better_ she could have stopped it. And more than that, she remembered how Mona said that she deserved a second chance. Even if that were true, surely she was past that now. This must be about her hundredth chance, and she was still messing it up.

Eventually she'd fallen asleep, only to have confusing and distressing dreams about darts and screaming and a wolf that seemed to appear from nowhere. The wolf growled at her, eyes glowing red in the darkness, and she was rooted to the spot, sure she was going to die. It opened its mouth, and she braced herself for the impact. But instead of even a howl, it let out a short, high-pitched beep.

Startled, Spencer was flung out of her dream and back into consciousness. She was panting, and she could feel the cold sweat dripping down her chest. Siting up, she tried to take a calming breath, but all she could manage was a weak sob. She suddenly wished she'd asked Toby to stay; he may not have been able to protect her from A, but at least he could protect her from herself.

She looked at the clock. 12.58. She'd hardly been asleep for more than an hour, but it felt like a lifetime. She picked up her pillow, her nails digging into it as she tried to stop herself from shaking. She couldn't keep going like this. One more sleepless night, one more nightmare, and she was sure she would break. Her friends would be left to pick up the shattered pieces, or at least the few they could find. Spencer felt like her old self was rapidly slipping away from her, and she wasn't as worried as she should have been. So what if she became an empty shell? So what if she gave up?

Still clutching the pillow, she lay back down, but as soon as she closed her eyes a sharp beeping rang out through the room. She shot upright, looking wildly around the room. And then she realized what it was that had disturbed her sleep.

She rolled over, reaching for her phone. Two new messages. She navigated to the first one, hitting the wrong button twice because her hands were shaking so badly. Finally it opened, filling her screen with a picture. She blinked, the glare from the screen making it difficult to make out features, and then turned on the lamp so she could see better. When she looked at the picture again, she could see it clearly.

It was a dark room, only just enough light to show the horrifying scene: Mona, tied to a chair in the middle of the room. She was unconscious, and Spencer couldn't stop the word _dead_ from skittering across her mind. There was a caption: **Guess again. –A**

So Mona wasn't behind this. Spencer felt a rush of regret; she shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. Aria had accused Mona of kidnapping Spencer, and now _she_ was the one who was in danger. This was followed by a surge of helplessness. As much as she disliked Mona, as much as they'd clashed in the past, she didn't deserve this. And if Spencer hadn't gotten her involved, maybe this New A wouldn't have taken it out on her. And judging by this message, it was up to Spencer to find her.

She stared at the screen, long enough to memorize every detail, to notice every crack in the wall and every cut on Mona's body; it looked like A had been forceful with her, and the thought made Spencer's stomach lurch. Once the image was firmly lodged in her brain, she moved on to the next message. It was an address, followed by a warning: **Come alone, or she dies. –A**

So that was it. A's plan was to lure her into a trap, using Mona as bait. She couldn't let that happen – but she couldn't let her die either. The _A_ on her arm was enough of a reminder that A was capable of sudden, extreme violence. Mona was entirely at their mercy; and Spencer was the only one who could save her.

Still, something was holding her back. It had been a horrific week, and she was still dealing with the aftermath of what A had done to her. The nightmares, the constant terror, the fear for both her safety and that of her friends. She saw the way Aria jumped at every sound, evidently still traumatized by her own attack. She wasn't oblivious to the way Hanna had grown quiet, so scared of saying the wrong thing and accidentally setting either of them off. And she'd noticed the way that Emily's words were even more gentle, so soft they were almost inaudible, treating them like they were made of glass.

And maybe she was right.

When Toby betrayed her, Spencer fell apart; she was shattered, not unlike glass, and it was her friends who got hurt on the shards. Now, maybe, this was her chance to redeem herself. And even if she didn't, even if this was what broke her completely, even if this was the last thing she did… maybe she'd be able to take A down with her.

Without giving herself time to consider the implications of her actions – another sign of how this whole week had taken away some of her Spencer-like traits – she threw back the covers and padded over to her closet. She didn't really have to worry about being quiet; her father was away at a conference, Melissa had left for an internship a couple of days ago, and her mother had had three glasses of red wine before she went to bed, which was usually enough to keep her sleeping soundly until the morning. Still, Spencer found herself tiptoeing, opening doors slowly so they didn't creak, and hardly even breathing. There was a sense of urgency, but also an air of secrecy.

When she'd been on the A-Team – that brief period she preferred not to think about – she had become quite good at sneaking around. She'd already been adept at being inconspicuous, but Mona had taught her some things about blending in, keeping secrets, making sure you weren't seen. Spencer had never imagined that she would be using those same skills to save Mona herself, especially so soon – had it really only been a month since the fire at the lodge? – but somehow it seemed fitting.

Spencer pulled on the first dark-colored clothes she could find. Logically she knew it wouldn't make a difference; A had sent her those messages, and would be waiting. It was almost certainly a trap. It probably wouldn't matter if she rocked up in full body armor or a designer dress complete with four-inch heels; she was likely doomed either way. Still, she shrugged on a black hoodie and slid on her black pants, shoved her feet into the closest shoes, and then pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail, going for practicality rather than aesthetics.

Then she grabbed her purse and her phone, tucking them into her pockets, and headed for the door. Less than a step away, she paused. If something went wrong –

She grabbed her notebook from her desk and a pen from the bag she'd taken to school that day, and started to write a note. But what could she say? She didn't know what she was walking into. She didn't know what the consequences would be if she told anyone – A probably wouldn't stop at killing Mona. Somehow it didn't surprise her that Mona wasn't behind this; Aria had been dead-set on the idea, but Spencer had had her doubts. But maybe it would have been better for Mona if she had been in on this.

Spencer's hand hovered an inch above the page as she contemplated. Finally she scribbled down the address A had given her, along with the date and time, and the letter A in the corner. That would be vague enough to avoid arousing suspicion if her parents found it, but specific enough for her friends to be able to use it to track her down if she didn't come back.  
Satisfied, but feeling increasingly uneasy, she left her room, crept down the hall and down the stairs – one of the stairs creaked, making her cringe – and then out the door, into the cool night. She pulled her jacket closer to her, trying to block out the chilly wind, but it was ineffectual. It was only a short walk to her car, and she slid into it gratefully, turning up the heater before she even started driving.

She sat in her car for a few minutes, the lights and engine off, her seatbelt not yet on, her mind not quite made up. There was still time to turn back, to call it quits, to crawl back into her bed and pretend she could never have stopped this. To deny responsibility for any of this, to leave it up to fate – and let Mona die.

But even as she thought it, she knew that wasn't an option. That mark on her arm didn't need to be a reminder of cowardice, of failures, of her shortcomings. It could be a symbol of what she overcame, of the enemy she defeated.

On that inspiring thought she started up the car, pulled out of the driveway, and headed toward the edge of town. It was only a few minutes until that thought was pushed out of the way by more negative ones, like _You're not going to make it out alive _and _A is playing you, and you're not smart enough to win._ In an effort to drown them out, she turned on the radio, flicking through the channels until she found something soft, classical, relaxing. Ten minutes into her drive she realized that wasn't the way to go, and switched to a hard rock station; the aggressive tempo and emotional lyrics helped to chase the thoughts out of her head.

But she kept it down low, so as not to draw attention to herself. And the moment she reached her destination, the thoughts came back in a rush so fierce that she sat for a moment in the car, her hands trembling and her heart threatening to break out of her chest. But she forced herself to look at the messages again, and remind herself of what was at stake. She looked out the window, barely able to make out the house even in her bright headlights. Suddenly aware of how conspicuous she was being she shut them off, but it had been enough to see where she was. A dark cabin on the edge of town, bordering on the woods, not too far from where she'd rescued Aria. This must be A's lair.

She got out of the car, still shaking, and walked up to the front door, each step simultaneously a monumental effort and probably a massive mistake. Leaving no time to back out – she was never going to get out of this A mess alive anyway, was she? – Spencer reached out, opened the door (unsurprised that it opened so easily; this was most likely a trap, after all), and stepped through, into the lion's den.

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**Oh look, the Liars jumped to the wrong conclusion, how unlike them. And poor Mona, getting herself caught in the middle.  
You'll find out who A is next chapter, so hit me with your final guesses. And as an extra incentive, if anyone does manage to guess/figure out who A is, I will send you a little snippet from the next chapter via PM.  
Have at it, guys. See you next time!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey all. Sorry for the slow update, this week was busier than I expected. So here it is, the moment of truth. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, particularly those who guessed. Special thanks to the lovely ****Runawaybaby555**** for proofreading this chapter for me, so any mistakes are hers - I kid, I kid. I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and please review if you did (or even if you didn't, constructive criticism is always welcome). Before you read, keep in mind that this is set after Season 3, but not during Season 4 - so everything from 4B has NOT happened. With that, here it is, and I hope to hear from you guys. See you next time.**

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If Spencer hadn't become so accustomed to dealing with sudden bursts of terror and action over the past year, what happened next would have been a complete blur. And for a second it was, until her mind applied something that could only be called a time filter: slowing things down so she could process them. And she noticed several things, each more terrifying than the last.

First, she noticed that the door swung closed behind her, and the little click let her know that it had locked itself. She took a step forward, away from it, and then she saw what it was in the room. It was empty, aside from a chair right in the centre; and on that chair, looking exactly as she had in the photo, was Mona. Her legs and arms were bound to it with slightly frayed rope, and her head was lolling in front of her; she looked dead.

But there was no time to dwell on that, because the next thing Spencer noticed was the smell of vanilla and coconut, with just a slight hint of strawberries. Such a pretty scent seemed so out of place in such a dark dwelling, in such a dire situation, and instead of being comforting it made the whole thing seem more ominous.

And finally, before she'd even been able to take in her full surroundings, she sensed rather than heard someone move behind her. She turned her head, and could only see a darker shadow step out from the rest, but she couldn't make out any definitive features. Her eyes skimmed the room, looking for another exit, some sign of hope, but there was none.

And then there was a knife pressed against her neck and someone's arm around her throat, and a startlingly familiar voice muttering in her ear, "I'm so happy you came, Spence."

_No._

Her mind shut down just as her legs started giving way. The figure behind her was the only thing holding her up; without them she would be a heap on the ground.

_It can't be true._

The person dug the knife in a little deeper, perhaps mistaking her fear for an attempt to escape – as if that was even an option now that –

_No. There was no way._

"I was beginning to lose hope that you'd show," the figure went on, casually, like a comment on the weather. "So thanks for not being a disappointment – this time."

_This couldn't be happening._

Spencer tried to turn around, so her eyes could confirm what her heart already knew to be true, but the person pushed the knife further in, warningly, almost enough to draw blood.

"Uh uh," they said tauntingly. "This is my game now, Spence."

The voice was unmistakeable. The reality was inescapable. The implications were unthinkable.

Spencer closed her eyes, took a shuddering breath, and tried to keep herself from crying. Then she reached up and dug her fingernails into the other person's hand, hard enough to make them loosen their grip on the knife. She followed this up by stamping on their foot, which made them let her go completely. But she'd only stumbled forward a step or two when the figure lashed out, kicking behind her knees and sending her sprawling onto the ground.

The impact knocked the wind out of her and she let out a weak whimper, hating herself for being taken advantage of so easily. She'd walked into A's trap, and now she knew who it was, how was she supposed to fight them? How was she ever supposed to win against the one person she could never beat?

"Nice try, sis." Melissa towered over her, still holding the knife and only looking a little bit put out by the fact that Spencer had trodden on her foot. "But it's not going to be this easy."

Spencer rolled over so she was on her back, staring up at her sister. At _A_. At the person who had kidnapped her, cut her, lured her out here to – what? What was her plan? She wanted to hurl insults at her, to _hurt_ her. She had never felt this kind of rage, not even when Mona had been revealed as A. Mona had kidnapped her too, tried to force her to join the team, threatened to kill her if she didn't. But that didn't compare to this moment. There was no way she could say this wasn't personal, no way she could convince herself it had nothing to do with her. This was her _sister_. This was entirely personal.

"Why?" she gasped, still winded from being thrown to the floor. She wanted to stand up, to try to gain the upper hand, but she knew if she moved at all Melissa would have no hesitation in using that knife. The cut on her own arm could attest to that. "Why did you do this? You kidnapped Aria. And me. And Mona. You've been torturing us for months. _Why_?"

Melissa shook her head, a disdainful look in her eyes. That was the one thing that had always made Melissa less beautiful, Spencer thought; she was so cold. The Hastings determination and ambition were there, but untempered by anything softer. No love, no light, no tears to dull the fire that burned within her. Spencer had the same fire, but it was kept in check by all those things, by her love for her friends and their love for her, by the tears she'd shed for Toby and Wren and everyone who was hurting or who had hurt her, by the knowledge that she was just one part of something so much bigger than herself.

But that had never been in her older sister. She wondered why she hadn't seen it before, why she'd never thought her sister capable of something like this. She was smart enough, she was ambitious enough… but Spencer had never really believed she had _hated_ her enough to do this.

"Poor little Spencer," Melissa cooed, running the tip of the knife down her own arm in a chilling way. "You don't get it, do you?"

"No," Spencer admitted, starting, ever so slowly, to lift herself up off the floor. If she could distract Melissa for long enough, keep her talking and thinking about something else, maybe she could get out of this. "Why don't you explain it to me?"

"The thing about you, Spencer," Melissa started, "is that you're always so convinced you're right. All high and mighty with your lofty ideals and your holier than thou attitude. But what you don't realize is that you're not as good as you think you are. I only got Aria involved because she was an easy target; I needed to lure you out there somehow. To be truthful I wasn't sure Mona would be enough of a lure this time, but my gamble paid off. But I digress."

If Spencer wasn't so terrified she'd be offended, but she was too busy trying to stay alive to pay any attention to insults.

"You prance around with your little friends, acting like you're so much better than everyone else." Melissa paused to give her a mocking glare, and then went on, "When Ali was alive, you let her walk all over you. You didn't notice it at the time, but being friends with her started to make you bitter. You took it out on me, on Mom and Dad, and on your friends – but they didn't see it either. And when she died, it got even worse."

Spencer started to push herself up on her elbows. She was almost in a sitting position, and Melissa didn't seem to be aware of it – or maybe she just didn't care.

"You thought you were invincible, didn't you? And you didn't even realize just how misguided you were. You thought you were protecting your friends, but really you were just using them. Even with Mona -" she flicked her gaze briefly to the limp figure in the chair "- tormenting you, you didn't let yourself break. You didn't stop to contemplate the consequences of your actions, you didn't think for even a second that you could be wrong."

Spencer was now sitting up, and Melissa didn't seem to care. Her sister was looking right at her, meeting her eyes, but it was more like she was looking through her. Spencer was shaking with fear, but it looked like Melissa was shaking with _rage_.

"You were never content with what you had," Melissa said, her grip on the knife tightening. "You always wanted what wasn't yours. You stole my essay, but that wasn't enough. You took my boyfriend, and then that wasn't enough either – you threw him away like old milk. And then you found Toby. You let yourself fall for him. And then he hurt you, didn't he? Oh, don't look so surprised. I was the one who told him to."

This was bringing up painful memories, but Spencer didn't have the energy to block them out. She finally knew why everything had happened, why she and her friends had been hurt so much; she'd always thought that the answers would bring her peace, that once she knew who was really behind this she could move on. But this was just hurting more, and she had the horrible feeling that she would never be able to move on from this – assuming she survived this night at all, which was seeming more and more unlikely.

"You fell apart, and suddenly everything was about you," Melissa went on, her voice dripping with disdain. "Mom and Dad only ever talked about you; only ever cared about you. Do you know, the whole time you were in Radley, they didn't even ask how I was doing? It was always 'How's Spencer?'"

"Melissa, that's not my fault -"

"And then," her sister interrupted, "you and your little friends burned down an entire lodge. Yes, I know about that. And somehow you get away with that too. You waltz back into school, pick up right where you left off. Get into UPenn, no problem."

"What?" Spencer's voice came out as a whisper, but even that seemed too loud. She hadn't heard back from the Admissions Board yet. How could Melissa have possibly known whether she was accepted or not? "I got into UPenn?"

"Yippee for you." Melissa pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and then scrunched it up, tossing it at Spencer. "Congratulations, little sister."

Spencer unfolded the note and looked at it. Sure enough, it was a UPenn acceptance letter, dated from almost a week ago – the Friday before Melissa had kidnapped her. Had that been the catalyst, then? If Melissa seriously thought Spencer was so horrible, seeing her get accepted to the same University she'd attended – on top of the fact that Spencer had finally managed to get a higher GPA than Melissa's senior year one – might have been enough to finally tip her over the edge.

"Why go after my friends?" Spencer asked, balling up the paper and letting it fall to the flor beside her. "Why not just take me down?"

"Do you really think that would have been enough?" Melissa countered. "After everything you've done, it wouldn't have been enough to just go after you. I needed to make you realize what it's like to be completely and utterly alone. To be alienated from your friends, your family, your _life_. That's why I took over the A-Team after Mona went to Radley."

"So you could, what, teach me a lesson?" Spencer narrowed her eyes, trying to get a read on Melissa. She was angry, she was hurt, and she was probably homicidal. But none of her reasons made complete sense. Spencer hadn't been that horrible… had she?

"The lesson's just getting started," Melissa said.

At that moment Mona stirred, letting out a feeble groan as her eyes flickered open. Spencer glanced at her, and then at Melissa. It was enough of a distraction. Without giving herself a second to think, Spencer scrambled to her feet and lunged at Melissa, slamming her into the wall. Melissa let out a surprised gasp as the knife slid from her grip. Spencer bent down to pick it up, but a jolt of pain shot through her as Melissa's knee connected with her stomach.

Stumbling back, Spencer watched through a haze of pain as Melissa picked up the knife, skirted around her – Spencer wanted to attack her again, to knock her to the ground, but now she was in too much pain to even think about moving – and strode over to Mona.

"Since you don't seem to value your own safety," Melissa said, pressing the knife against Mona's neck while the younger girl squirmed in her bindings, trying desperately to get free, "let's see if this is enough to persuade you."

"Don't." Spencer had intended the word as a warning, but instead it came out as a plea; one which Melissa ignored. "Deal with me, not her."

"Of course," Melissa said silkily. "This is about you, after all."

"What do you want?" Spencer finally straightened, ignoring the stabbing pain in her stomach. She met Mona's eyes; the other girl was terrified, naturally, but there was also something else there, something behind the fear. It was, Spencer realized with a start, _trust_. Mona's life was in Spencer's hands, and the other girl trusted her to get out of her it.

"I want you to make a choice," Melissa said. "You see, Spencer, while you were racing over here to save Mona, your friends were rushing off somewhere else, to save you – or so they thought."

Spencer paled. "What did you do?"

"I sent them a message," Melissa explained, smirking. "They're headed to the school as we speak. And they're going to find a nasty surprise when they get there. But let me tell you, it's to die for."

"What?" Spencer could barely choke the word out. Her friends were in danger, her sister was crazy, and she was reasonably sure she was going to die. There was no way out of this.

"All those chemistry classes came in handy. A few pinches of this, a dash of that, and you have your own homemade bomb. Triggered by opening the front door. Genius, right?"

"You're going to kill them," Spencer said softly, and she heard Mona let out a whimper as the words left her mouth. "You're really going to kill my friends to teach me a _lesson_?"

"That's the beauty of it, Spence." Melissa let her hand drift over Mona's shoulder, causing the other girl to shudder violently. "They don't have to die. There's only one person who can save them – you."

"How?"

Melissa's eyes glinted in the moonlight streaming through the one window. "All you have to do is kill Mona."

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**For all you saying that it was Aria or Wren, shame on you. I would never do that... except I totally have and would do again. And I'm not above killing off anyone, even the great Mona Vanderjesus, so tune in next time to find out how far this thing is going to go...**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey everyone, and thanks for the awesome reviews last chapter. We've reached the climax of the story, so this is pretty much the last chapter. There'll be one more to come, which will be a nice little epilogue, but this one is where most of the drama is resolved. Special thanks to everyone who's stuck with me through this whole story, and I really hope you liked how it turned out. Don't forget to review, and I'll see you next time for the final chapter!**

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Spencer was unable to do anything but stare at her sister in mute horror. How had she never noticed how unhinged she was? How could she not have seen this coming? And, more to the point, what the hell was she supposed to do now?

"One call," Melissa said, pulling her cell out of her pocket, "that's all it'll take to save your friends."

Without conscious thought Spencer's hand drifted to her pocket, where her cell was nestled snugly. One call. That's all. One call to save three lives.

"Drop it," Melissa commanded, raising the knife warningly.

Spencer hesitated for a second, then pulled her phone out and dropped it on the floor. Melissa gave her an approving look, but ruined the effect by accidentally digging the knife into Mona's neck so much that the other girl let out a strangled yelp.

"Stop!" Spencer cried.

Melissa jerked the knife away, but her eyes never left Spencer. "You need to make a choice. Either your friends die, or Mona does. It seems easy, doesn't it? Three lives against one."

"It's not that easy," Spencer protested, genuinely unsure if her sister was that deranged or just trying to talk her into this. "You're asking me to take a life, Melissa."

"Why not? You've already taken mine."

Spencer's eyes widened and she looked at Melissa, appalled. Did her sister really think she was that awful? And, more importantly, _was_ she? "I never meant to hurt you," she said passionately. "I know we've always been competitive with each other, but I always thought there was real love behind it."

"You could never love anyone, Spencer. You're too self-absorbed."

"That's not true," Spencer protested, but her voice sounded wobbly even to her. She was capable of love, she knew that; it was the _expression_ of it that caused her problems. Did Toby know how she really felt? If she didn't make it out of this – and every second ticking by made her less hopeful that she would get out – would her friends remember how she used to be, full of light and life, or who she'd become this year, someone darker and harder to understand? Someone who'd pushed her friends so far away she was still keeping them at arm's length?

"Then prove it." Melissa turned the knife around so she was offering the handle to her. "Save your friends."

Spencer stared at the knife, and then looked at Mona. The other girl was crying softly, her eyes pleading with Spencer. Even after all of this, Mona believed that Spencer could save her. But if she did, she'd lose her friends. And if she didn't, who's to say Melissa would even save her friends? Logic had gone out the window a couple of kidnappings ago. "Melissa, this doesn't make any sense. What are you trying to achieve here?"

"You're stalling." Melissa tapped the knife against her chin, looking at her younger sister with a mixture of disappointment and resignation – a familiar expression. "The thing is, Spencer," she said slowly, seemingly deciding that stalling wasn't a punishable offense, "you're stuck in your own fantasy world. You need to wake up and realize that the real world isn't like that. Sometimes you have to make tough choices."

"This isn't tough love," Spencer spat, feeling more horrified by the second. Had her sister been so adept at hiding her true feelings that nobody had noticed? Or had she just been steadily unravelling and this was the result? "This is _insane_. This is _illegal_. I've made tough choices before. I've come close to losing everything because of what you and the rest of the A-Team did -" she shot a slightly apologetic look at Mona; she was hardly to blame for this particular incident "- and I've had to rebuild myself, so don't you dare talk to me about the 'real world'. I'm sorry I'm not perfect, I'm sorry I'm not you, but I am not going to play your sick little game. Give it up, Melissa. It's not happening."

Melissa let out a barely audible sigh, and then checked the time on her phone. "It's a pity. Your friends will spend the last few minutes of their lives thinking that they're going to save you – but in reality it's you who should be saving them. But you're not going to, are you?"

"Melissa." Spencer spat the word out, hating the way it tasted. Toby's betrayal had been devastating enough, but to find out that it was Melissa, her own _sister_, who was behind this – it was too much. Her friends were going to die, and it was Spencer's fault. And even if it wasn't, she was still responsible. But she couldn't kill someone. She thought back to what Emily had done to Nate-or-whatever; maybe Spencer could do that, if it came down to it. Maybe if she was caught in the moment, no other option. But to kill Mona, right here and now, that wasn't an option. She couldn't kill someone in cold blood.

Even if it was to save her friends. Even if it was the _only_ way to save them. Spencer had always understood the capacity for darkness inside herself; there was no way she could be so intelligent, so driven, without being aware of the danger of stepping over that thin line of morality. Without her friends, her boyfriend, and a lifetime of self-control, maybe she could have even turned out like this. She'd always known that she saw things differently, that she saw the bigger picture and also the most miniscule details, and that made her potentially dangerous. But she'd only ever used that for good, hadn't she? She'd focused on school and her friends and being the best person she could be.

And it still wasn't good enough. At this moment she didn't care about Melissa's approval, and she wondered why she'd ever cared about it at all. Melissa saw things differently too, but where Spencer saw the world with a sort of gray tinge to it, edges slightly blurry and threads always tangling, Melissa, she had no such view. She didn't see the world through rose-tinted glasses; her glasses were ringed with thorns, sharp ones that dug into her, eating away at her until she was blind. Blind to the truth, to what was really happening. She only saw what she wanted to, not what was really there.

And in her mind, Spencer was the villain, and Melissa was the victim. Black and white, case closed. Maybe Spencer could have done something to stop it, or at least slow it down. Maybe if she'd been a little less competitive, a little more understanding. Maybe if she'd stopped clashing with Melissa long enough to just listen to her.

But now it was Melissa who wasn't listening. To logic, to reason, to Spencer's pleas. She was set in her ways, and maybe it was too late for her to change. But there was still time for Spencer. If she could make things right now, if she could save her friends and Mona… would that make up for failing Melissa?

"I…" Spencer focused on her own body language, sinking onto one hip as if in defeat, wrapping her arms around her to make herself seem smaller – and also partly to try to stop the aching in her stomach from where Melissa had kneed her. "I don't want my friends to die."

"Then you know what you have to do."

It wasn't too hard to bring tears to her eyes. Spencer was already so hurt and lost and confused that making herself cry wasn't even a stretch. But what Melissa mistook for tears of desolation over what she was about to do were actually tears of frustration, at the unfairness of this situation, at the frailty of her position – and also tears designed to distract. Melissa had to believe she was going through with it.

As soon as Spencer took a step forward, Mona let out a protest that was muffled by her gag. "I'm sorry, Mona," Spencer said, walking around behind her to stand beside Melissa. The tears still trickling down her face added to the effect, and were intensified by the way Mona had looked at her – all trust gone, only accusations and terror left. Mona thought she was going to go through with it. Is that the kind of impression she gave? One that made people assume she was capable of _murder_? "I just can't let my friends die."

"It won't be too bad," Melissa assured her, holding out the knife. "Just do it quickly."

With trembling hands – her hesitation only slightly feigned – Spencer took the handle of the knife, wrapping her fingers around it so tightly she could feel the plastic digging into her skin. Melissa put her hand over the top of Spencer's, letting the other girl guide but making sure she wouldn't be able to try any tricks.

"Do it, Spence," Melissa urged. "Do it or your friends die."

Spencer looked down at the knife, then up at her sister, and finally at Mona; the poor girl was struggling wildly, letting out muffled sobs as she tried in vain to free herself. The knife felt heavy in Spencer's hand, and she wanted to let it fall to the floor, to fling it away, to end this madness. But Melissa's hand on hers was a warning, a reminder of what would happen if she didn't go through with this.

A few beats passed, and then Spencer slowly started lowering the knife, inch by inch, towards Mona's throat. She could feel Melissa's breathing rate increase in excitement; she was so twisted that she actually wanted to turn her younger sister into a killer. When the knife was only an inch away from Mona, Spencer got her chance. Melissa adjusted her grip, just slightly, but it was enough.

Careful not to move the hand moving the knife, lest she alert Melissa of her true intentions, she rammed her other elbow into Melissa's ribs. The taller girl let out a cry of pain and surprise, her grip on the knife loosening at once. Spencer used that advantage to pulled her hand free, so she was holding the knife and Melissa had nothing.

"You bitch," Melissa said, her eyes mere slits.

"It's over, Melissa." Spencer's fingers curled over the knife protectively, possessively, in case she needed to use it. "It's time to let it go."

Melissa took a quivering breath, her shoulders shaking, and then without a word she launched herself at Spencer. With a shriek Spencer dove out of the way, squeezing her eyes shut tight, but instinctively her hand shot out. There was a sharp cry, a dull thud, and then Spencer opened her eyes.

Her sister was lying on the floor, the knife embedded in her gut. Her hands were wrapped around the knife, as if she was tempted to pull it out. Her eyes were downcast, her breath wheezing, and Spencer thought she had never seen anything more pathetic in her life.

But she didn't dwell on it for long. She scurried across the room, snatched up her phone, and dialled, keeping one eye on Melissa.

"Spencer!" Aria exclaimed after only one ring. "Where -"

"It's a trap," Spencer said bluntly.

"Wh-what?"

"Don't go to the school. It's a trap."

She heard someone ask a question in the background, and Aria relayed the message before saying into the receiver, "Spence, what's -"

"I can't explain right now," Spencer said, watching as Melissa pulled herself into a more upright position, grunting in pain as she did so. "I'm fine, but if you guys go to the school, you won't be. Trust me."

"Spencer -" Aria sounded panicked, but there was no time to comfort her.

"Promise me," Spencer cut across. "Aria, promise me you won't go to the school."

"O-Okay," Aria said, clearly startled. "We won't go."

"Thank you."

Spencer hung up before Aria could say anything else. There would be time for explanations later, but for now she just had to do damage control. Melissa looked up at her, pain and anger darkening her eyes, but she didn't speak.

"All this time," Spencer said slowly, looking at her sister as if she'd never seen her before, "I thought you were just being cruel. I never thought you might be this unwell."

Melissa jerked her head up, understanding the connotations; she'd said the same words when Spencer was in Radley. After Melissa had sent her there. After her constant torments had sent her sister over the edge and caused her to fall apart.

Spencer only took a moment to marvel at the change in roles before she hurried over to Mona and started untying her. As soon as she was free Mona tumbled forward, and Spencer caught her and hauled her upright. Then, to her surprise, Mona threw her arms around her, holding on so tightly that Spencer could hardly breathe.

"Thank you," Mona whimpered, sounding more vulnerable than Spencer had ever heard her.

Spencer couldn't think of any words to say, so she just reciprocated the gesture, hugging Mona tightly. It felt strange, but in a pleasant way. A common enemy had been enough to dissolve the barriers between them, although the duration it would last was up for debate.

"Come on," Spencer said, pulling away at last and looking at Melissa, who was still unable to stand up. "Let's get out of here."

Mona held onto Spencer, who guided her toward the door. Whatever Melissa had done to get Mona here, it had definitely been violent; the smaller girl could only just walk, and every step made her flinch. They paused at the door, shuffling around so that Spencer could open it. Just as she did, there was a noise behind her.

"Spencer," Melissa said desperately, her eyes brimming with tears and blood still oozing from her stomach. "Help me…"

Spencer turned around, taking in the full sight before her with a measured look. Meeting her sister's eyes, she said calmly, "Help yourself."

Then she helped Mona out the door, letting it slam closed behind her.

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	12. Chapter 12

**Well, here we are. This has been so much fun, and this story was one of my favorites to write, so I'm glad you guys enjoyed it. Thanks to everyone who joined me on this journey, whether it be through favoriting, following, or reviewing - especially the latter, because you guys have no idea how much it means when you take some time out of your day to let me know that you liked my work. As a person I'm insecure and as a writer I'm even more so, but it's people like you who keep me writing. This story is kind of different for me, because if you'll notice - nobody died! This epilogue is even on the happy side, despite suspicion that I might just kill everyone off (because, hey, it's me, that's entirely possible).**

**So, if you're reading this, chances are you've read the whole story. If you have a minute, please leave me a review; I'll love you forever if you do. Even if it's months after I published and I've forgotten I even wrote this story, I guarantee you'll make my day.**

**Now, if you liked this, you might like to hear about something else I'm planning. Early next year I'm going to be publishing a three-part 'Devils' series - descriptions in my profile. It's going to have a similar amount of angst, drama, and surprises, so maybe I'll see some of you guys there?**

**For now, though, enjoy, review, and have a wonderful holiday season if I don't see you in any of my other stories. :)**

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"You're all clear." Wren smiled and flipped the chart closed, satisfied.

Spencer breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing the almost-healed cut on her arm. The _A _shape was still clearly visible, but it had faded a lot. In the month since the showdown with Melissa, the cut had become inflamed and then infected, and Spencer had worried that it wouldn't heal. But now Wren was giving her a clean bill of health, and all her injuries had healed.

"Thanks," she said, scooping her bag up off the floor.

"Spencer," he said as she started moving toward the door. She paused and looked at him, and he went on, "I know these past couple of months have been difficult for you, but it's good to see you starting to look like your old self again. Are you feeling better?"

"Mostly." Spencer looked down at the floor, and then back up at Wren. "I'm still having nightmares," she admitted quietly, "but I think it's getting better."

Wren gave her a sympathetic smile, and she was struck by how professional he seemed, dressed in his scrubs and against a backdrop of medical books. She was grateful for all his help, all his concern and support, but she didn't love him anymore. She was sure of that now and the sadness that certainty brought her was secondary to the relief. For a while it had been touch-and-go with Toby, and even with how patient he'd been with her following the incident with Melissa, she'd still felt insecure. There'd been one or two times she'd actually half-convinced herself that he was going to leave her, leading to some hysterical tears and barely coherent conversations. But he was still here, and she was still his.

"If there's anything you need," Wren said gently, "my door's always open."

"Thank you," she said, putting as much feeling into those two words as she could. She didn't normally do big emotional speeches or heartfelt thanks, but she needed him to know how glad she was that he was on her side.

He did know, and he just nodded, his smile never faltering. Spencer said her farewells and then made her way into the hall, where Toby was waiting. He looked up as she approached, a question in his eyes.

"It's all fine," Spencer told him, and he stood up to envelope her in a hug. "Wren says that it should be fully healed in a couple of days."

"That's great," Toby said, slinging his arm around her shoulders as they started down the hall.

While they walked he talked about a new job he got in Bucks County and she told him about a major project she was working on, and it was just like it used to be. He made a point not to look at the _A_ on her arm, and they steered clear of any deep topics. There were certain unspoken rules between them, things they knew not to talk about, and it took some of the anxiety out of conversation; Spencer's parents still insisted on talking to her about things she would rather not discuss, and although she appreciated their concern it put her on edge. But with Toby, things were comfortable. She couldn't quite let herself feel _safe_, but when she was with him she felt as close as she was going to get.

They fell silent as they reached the car, and neither of them spoke until they were almost at their destination. Finally Toby glanced over at her, slowing the car down slightly, and asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Spencer nodded, her mouth forming a thin line. She wasn't sure, but she'd been putting it off for so long that she couldn't ignore it anymore.

"I can come in with you," he offered as they pulled into the parking lot.

"I'll be okay," she said, kissing him quickly on the cheek. "I'll be back soon."

"Take your time."

The walk to the building seemed to take forever. She walked in a four-beat rhythm; each time her foot hit the pavement her mind chanted _Stop – turn - back – no –_ but she made herself keep going. It wasn't until she'd signed in and was being led to the visitors area that the reality set in. She hadn't seen her sister since That Night. After leaving, Spencer had called 911, who'd come and taken Melissa away – after ascertaining that she had, in fact, been bluffing. There was no bomb at the school, and Spencer had felt sick with the thought that Melissa had tried to play her like that - and even more so that it had almost worked. Melissa had been in hospital for almost a week before being transferred to the county jail, and during that time neither Spencer nor her parents had gone to see her.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but she was still caught off-guard when she saw Melissa. She was sitting at a table by herself, the orange jumpsuit making her look more washed out. Her lank hair fell around her shoulders, and without her usual layer of makeup she looked pale and almost unhealthy.

"Hi." Spencer hesitated before sitting down across from her. Then she rested her hands on the table, absently drumming her fingernails along the cold surface while she tried to think of what to say next.

Melissa clasped her hands in her lap, her eyes fixed on Spencer. "I'm surprised you came."

"So am I," Spencer said, and the two shared a nervous laugh that got cut off too quickly. It seemed like such an inappropriate sound, given the circumstances. Once it died away, Spencer asked softly, "How have you been?"

Melissa shrugged. "It's not too bad here."

"That's good. I heard the food is –"

"Drop the act," Melissa interrupted, causing Spencer to glance sharply up at her.

"Wh-what?"

"You're not here to talk about the food," Melissa said, sounding weary rather than angry. "So why are you here, Spencer?"

The question had an obvious answer, but one Spencer couldn't bring herself to say: _You're my sister. We're family_. Instead she said, "I needed to talk to you. How we left things -"

"You mean when you left me with a knife in the gut and called the police on me?" Melissa asked, arching an eyebrow.

Spencer blinked. "You tried to get me to _kill_ someone," she reminded her tersely.

"And you wouldn't do it," Melissa said, as if she was still trying to figure out why that was the case.

"No." Spencer stopped drumming on the table, meeting Melissa's eyes. "I used to think we were wired the same, but I think we're more different than we realized."

In the past month Spencer had driven herself crazy trying to analyze everything that had happened. She'd thought about whether her path and Melissa's had ever been the same, if she could have done something to stop Melissa going down this one. And if maybe she would ever end up on the one Melissa took. She'd gone through a hundred scenarios in her head, lived out a hundred different endings, and still she didn't know whether this one was preventable or inevitable. And she knew, although the stubborn part of her refused to believe it, that there was no way she'd ever be able to know for sure.

"We're more similar than you think, Spence."

The words sent a chill down Spencer's spine. To think that she was _anything_ like Melissa… she wasn't, was she? She didn't know how her sister had ended up so twisted, and at the moment she wasn't sure she wanted to know. This visit wasn't going to yield anything. But she couldn't just give up or walk away. She was still connected to Melissa, as much as she hated it, and she needed to see this through. She was a Hastings, after all.

"We're not the same," Spencer said firmly. "I would never do what you did."

"But you could," Melissa said smoothly. "You could do what I did, and knowing you, you'd do it better."

"That's the difference between us." Spencer stood up, folding her arms, suddenly needing to be far away from here. "I know the difference between being capable of something and actually doing it."

Without waiting for a response she strode toward the door.

"Spence."  
She turned.

"Will you… will you come and see me again?"

She hesitated.

"Ever?"

She took a deep breath, made a deep decision, and then nodded. "I'll be here this time next week."

As she left, she heard her sister say, "Maybe I was wrong about you."

Over her shoulder, Spencer said, "I know I was wrong about you."

The intense emotions that this visit stirred up took almost a week to fade. Melissa had given her a glimmer of hope, showing something that could be seen as regret. Had she really admitted that Spencer may not be as horrible as she'd assumed? As tangled as their relationship was, as strained and complicated and downright crazy as it was, she knew she wasn't going to give up on it. She and her sister had never been, and would never be, friends, but they didn't have to be such bitter enemies.

Several days after her visit to Melissa, Spencer was sitting in the cafeteria, absently sipping on a coffee while she typed up notes for a History essay on her laptop. She was just starting a paragraph about the causes of the Cold War when a shadow fell across her. Closing the laptop, she looked up.

"Is this seat taken?" Mona asked tentatively, gesturing to chair beside Spencer.

"No," Spencer said quickly, shoving her bag off it to make room for Mona. "Go ahead."

The two girls hadn't really talked since That Night. Mona had kept to herself, and had skipped so much school that Spencer had barely seen her anyway. Spencer had been tempted to talk to her, but what was she supposed to say? _Sorry my sister tried to convince me to kill you_? So Mona kept her distance, and Spencer held her silence.

Mona sat down, giving Spencer a reserved smile. "What were you working on?"

"The history essay."

"It's not due for another two weeks," Mona pointed out. "Getting in early, don't you think?"

"I just want to make sure I keep my position at the top of the class," Spencer said, with a teasing smile; Mona had been trying to beat her in that class all year.

"No need to be cocky," Mona countered, grinning. "You're not _that_ far ahead of me."

"Not yet."

The two girls shared a smile, and Spencer wondered how she'd gotten to this point. The point where she had almost forgiven Mona for everything she put them through. The point where Spencer's sister was locked away in prison and would be for some time yet. The point where Mr and Mrs Hastings finally looked at Spencer with something other than mild frustration and disappointment; something closer to respect.

Spencer ran her hand absently along the _A_ scar. It had once made her wince to look at it; it was a reminder of everything she'd lost, every bad thing she'd done. But gradually, the further away she got from That Night, the more she was able to look at it differently. It wasn't a Scarlet Letter. It was a badge of honor. She'd taken on the devil and won. Melissa had shown her the darkness that lay inside both of them, and Spencer had refused to give in. Melissa's rage and jealousy had turned deadly, but Spencer had kept hers under control. And with the help of her friends, she knew she could keep doing it.

After a couple of minutes, which Spencer and Mona spent chattering about the latest Stephen King book, the other girls made their way over to them. Aria came first, and sat down after only a brief confused look at Mona. Hanna hesitated longer, but after a brief nod with Spencer she let it pass without comment. And Emily just blinked a couple times, then sat down without question.

Once they were all seated, conversation started up about plans for the weekend; watching movies at the old drive-in, then going to Aria's house for the night. Mona stayed silent while they talked, and Spencer felt a twinge of guilt. Mona didn't have many friends, given everything Ali had done to them and everything she'd done to them in turn. And now Spencer fully understood how it would feel to be without friends; she'd almost lost all of hers, all because of her sister.

"Mona," Spencer said, and the other girl looked at her with a startled expression, "do you want to come?"

"I'm not sure I'd be welcome," Mona mumbled, not looking at the others.

Spencer's gaze drifted around all her friends, none of whom said anything. Then she turned her attention back to Mona and said, "You're more than welcome. We'd like to have you there."

"Really?"

Spencer nodded, and no one argued. After Mona graciously accepted the offer, conversation only stopped for about half a second, and then, taking their lead from her, the other girls started making more of an effort to include Mona. Spencer leaned back, letting the conversation flow over her, warm and soothing. She knew they hadn't forgiven Mona, and maybe they never fully would; but, similarly, she herself would never be fully forgiven. By Melissa, for whatever she'd done to her. By her friends, for all the things she'd put them through. By Toby and Wren and anyone else she'd hurt.

But maybe this was her second chance. She couldn't fix all her mistakes, but she could try to be better. She could try to make amends and move on, to listen more and speak less, to make sure the past didn't repeat itself.

And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.

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End file.
